


remember me

by epilogues



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Amnesia, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Frerard, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epilogues/pseuds/epilogues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard has promised to love Frank forever. He just doesn't know if he can anymore after forgetting who he is and why he loved Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're The Air When I'm Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> also on my wattpad: @justadude77

_“Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.” ~Kevin Arnold_

“I can’t believe that we’ve been together for four years now,” Gerard remarked, stretching himself out on Frank’s lap comfortably.

“Me neither,” Frank said. He tried to hide how nervous he was as he leaned down and kissed his boyfriend. “I love you, Gee.”

“I love you too, Frankie.”

 _Is now the right time?_ Frank silently wondered. He’d been waiting for the perfect moment for weeks, and his and Gerard’s fourth anniversary seemed like a good time. He just had to work up the courage first. With a slightly trembling hand, Frank reached for his jacket pocket and had just grasped the small black box inside when Gerard sat up.

“What time is it?”

“Uh. . .” Frank craned his neck to read the clock hanging on the far wall. “4:37pm. Why?”

Gerard grinned. “You should go get ready for dinner. We have reservations at six.”

“Reservations? Where?” Gerard grinned even more. “Ivre L’Amour.”

“What?” Frank gasped. “How? That place is like, crazy fancy, and it’s practically impossible to get reservations!”

“I have my ways,” Gerard replied slyly. “Now, if I were you, I’d go put on something nice. We’re leaving at quarter past five.”

Releasing the box back into the depths of his pocket with a strange mixture of disappointment and relief, Frank pecked Gerard on the lips before getting off of the couch and walking into their bedroom. He wasn’t quite sure what to wear, so he opened the closet door and just studied all of his options. Meanwhile, Gerard went into the kitchen and discreetly took his evening dose of Klonopin. He didn’t want to start having a panic attack at the restaurant because of all the people. Once he’d swallowed it, though, he found himself hesitant to recap the bottle. The first time he’d overdosed on the prescription drug had been entirely accidental, when his memory was a little fuzzy and he’d forgotten that he’d already taken his morning pill. The resulting calm had been nothing short of heavenly, though, and Gerard had found himself secretly taking extra pills, one or two a day, almost daily. It had only progressed from there, and it was a rare occasion if he only took the prescribed two each day.

Of course, it wasn’t without side effects: Gerard often found his memory to be slightly hazy and unreliable, and he got clumsier the more he took. The calm and numbness was worth the effects, though. Even though he knew that he really shouldn’t have, Gerard shook another small blue pill into his palm and popped it into his mouth before walking into the bedroom to get changed. Frank was already dressed in a black suit that Gerard hadn’t seen him wear for years but still fit nicely.

Smiling, Gerard commented, “I hope you know how ridiculously hot you look in that.”

Blushing a bit, Frank replied, “I hope you know how ridiculously hot you look in anything- including nothing.”

“Shut up,” said Gerard good-naturedly, throwing off his shirt and pulling a button-down off a hanger. He was going to wear a suit as well; it was one of the few things he didn’t feel absolutely hideous in.

“I’m serious,” Frank insisted, standing and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend from behind. “You’re seriously the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He knew that Gerard would just argue, so he decided to take away his power of speech by gently nipping on his earlobe. It worked, Gerard biting his lip to hold in his gasp. Frank smirked against his pale skin before pulling away and letting him change.

Once Gerard was ready to go as well, the pair took the elevator downstairs to the ground floor of their building and stepped outside into the warm May sunlight. The sun was still high in the sky and wouldn’t go down until several hours later. Gerard took Frank’s tattooed hand with a grin and started off down the street towards the nearby parking garage where he kept his car. It was nothing special, just a black Nissan Altima that he’d found at a used car dealership a year ago. As Gerard cheesily opened the passenger door for him, Frank nervously checked the inside of his pants pocket, where he had slipped the little box holding his future, afraid that it had fallen out somehow. But then he felt its reassuring weight, and Frank got into the car as calmly as he possibly could with all of the nerves currently wreaking havoc on his mind. Gerard was completely oblivious, mostly due to the pills.

They were already starting to take effect, the calm spreading through him like a gentle stream as he pulled out of the garage and turned on his GPS. “Take a left onto Jefferson Lane in 1.6 miles,” directed the GPS in a robotic voice.

Gerard nodded, taking the information into account. However, 1.6 miles later, when the voice spoke up with a brisk, “Turn left,” Gerard found himself scrambling to flash his turn signal and move the car.

“You okay there, Gee?” Frank asked. He nodded. “Yeah, I just kinda zoned out for a second.” It wasn’t the exact truth; Gerard had a feeling that the pills were affecting his short-term memory again, but he didn’t want to worry Frank with that on their date.

Frank looked at him for a moment, as if trying to detect a lie. “Okay. But if you want me to drive, just say so.”

“Nah, I’m your chauffeur. Tonight, my dear Frank, is all about spoiling you.”

* * *

“Gee. . .I still can’t believe that you really got us reservations here,” Frank breathed as they walked up to the glass doors of Ivre L’Amour. Inside, chandeliers reflected the soft golden light that illuminated the finely-dressed people inside.

“Anything for you, Frankie,” said Gerard as he opened the door for his boyfriend. They stepped inside and up to the hostess’ desk.

She smiled cheerily at them and asked, “Do you two gentleman have a reservation?”

Feeling unusually confident, Gerard replied, “Yes, ma’am. It’s under the name Way.”

Frank shot Gerard a surprised look. Normally, it was Frank who had to talk to waitresses and the like because of Gerard’s social anxiety. Maybe it was just the general high that both of them were feeling, what with it being their fourth anniversary and being at Ivre L’Amour, which was easily the nicest restaurant in the area. Meanwhile, the hostess tapped a few buttons on her computer before picking up two black embossed menus and turning back to Frank and Gerard. “Right this way, please.”

Once they were seated in a cushiony booth that was (thankfully) sufficiently separated from the rest of the diners, Frank and Gerard opened their menus. Gerard’s attention was mostly on Frank, though. The look on his boyfriend’s face was absolutely gorgeous as he marveled at the splendor of it all. Frank had grown up without much financial stability, and this was probably the fanciest place he’d ever been too. Of course, Gerard had never been wealthy himself, but he had been able to go out on special occasions. “It all looks so good,” Frank said in wonder. “But. . .how can you afford this, Gee?”

Gerard shrugged nonchalantly. “I put in a couple of extra hours at the studio, helping newbies and the like.”

“So _that’s_ why you were out so late last month. God, I love you so much, Gerard.”

“I love you too.” Gerard’s reply was one given with conviction and honesty. He loved Frank more than anything. It was why he tried not to go completely overboard with the pills, and why he stayed by his alcohol-free lifestyle. He knew from a regrettable time several years ago that Klonopin and alcohol didn’t mix and hadn’t risked it since. Sure, there were times that he wouldn’t really mind the thoughtless high or the possibility of endless sleep, but there was no way that he could do that to Frank. “So, what are you going to order?”

“I think I’m going to try the Spanish strawberry salad. What about you?”

“The Parisian grilled chicken seems really good.”

Frank wrinkled his nose slightly at his boyfriend’s carnivorous habits. “Whatever suits you, Gee.”

“I _still_   can’t believe that we’ve been together for four years,” Gerard commented.

“Me neither,” Frank admitted, gazing across the table at his beautiful boyfriend. “Do you remember when we first met?”

Gerard laughed, hazel eyes sparkling in the glow of the lights. “How could I forget?”

It had been at the house party of a mutual friend, Jamia Nestor, back in their senior year of high school. Gerard had been hiding out in the corner so he didn’t have a panic attack because of all the people when a very intoxicated Frank had stumbled over. He was trying to flirt with Gerard but had simply ended up puking on him because he couldn’t hold his alcohol. Not the best first impression, but Gerard distinctly remembered thinking, even as the boy he barely knew vomited all over him, _Holy shit, this guy’s hot._ He had ended up slipping Frank his number, and the two had met up again about a week later. Frank’s intention for the meeting was just to apologize for the whole puking incident, but the afternoon came to a close with a kiss and a promise to see each other again.

“We’ve been through so much since then,” Frank said, obviously caught up in memories as well.

“We really have,” agreed Gerard. “Like, do you remember the time that you came over to my house for the first time and my little brother gave you a heart attack?”

Frank chuckled. “Of course. In my defense, you never told me about him, so what else was I supposed to do when this small emo child just, like, appeared out of nowhere while we were making out in your room?”

“Good point. I’m still never letting you live down the fact that your first instinct in that situation was to fall off of the bed and then throw your shoe at him, though.”

“Shut up,” Frank muttered, blushing. “I was just trying to protect you. Besides, you’ve done plenty of stupid shit yourself, you know.”

“Oh, yeah? Name one thing.”

Luckily, Gerard was saved the embarrassment by the waitress, who had just walked over to their table.

“Good evening, sirs,” she said warmly. “My name’s Sarah, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. What can I get you to drink this evening? Our specialty champagne is highly recommended.”

“I’ll just have a water, please,” Gerard requested. Normally, he could handle a drink or two, but since he’d had a couple more pills than he was supposed to, it probably wasn’t the best idea to have any alcohol at all.

“A water for me as well, please,” Frank said, smiling supportively at Gerard. He was unaware of the intentional overdosing, but he still knew that Gerard and alcohol didn’t mix well.

“That’ll be right out,” said Sarah, turning and walking back to the kitchen.

Frank returned his attention to Gerard. “Did you take your pill tonight?”

“Yeah, before we left,” he answered. “I honestly doubt that I’d be able to talk to anyone if I hadn’t.”

“I’m glad that you’re taking care of yourself, Gee. But if there are any side effects. . .I know that those pills can mess with you sometimes.”

“I’m fine. No worries.” Gerard flashed Frank a confident smile, which he returned.

He could feel the corner of the box in his pocket poking into his leg and knew that he was going to pop the question before the night’s end. He’d had his speech prepared for weeks; he just had to find the perfect time and place to deliver it. Maybe they could stop by that park Gee loved to visit on the way home. Yes, that would be good.

“Whatcha thinking about, Frank?” Gerard’s voice broke into Frank’s thoughts and he blinked.

“You,” he answered truthfully, cheeks flushing a soft pink. He looked at Gerard and couldn’t help but smile. He had a feeling that his boyfriend’s unadorned left hand would be decorated by the end of the night. 

* * *

“I don’t think I can ever eat anything ever again,” Gerard proclaimed as he and Frank walked out of Ivre L’Amour into the dark evening. Even with the pills and lack of alcohol, there was still a slight buzz in his body, probably courtesy of Frank and the euphoria that he tended in induce in Gerard.

“I think I might have to agree with you on that,” Frank said, taking Gerard’s hand in his. “Hey, before we go back home, do you want to stop by that park you like so much? It’s only a couple of streets over.”

“Of course,” replied Gerard. “You’re not going to be cold, are you?”

Frank shook his head. “This suit’s plenty warm. _You’re_ not going to get too cold, are you?”

Gerard looked at him as they started walking. “Frank. Do I ever get cold?”

“Hey, I had to make sure.”

Rolling his eyes affectionately, Gerard leaned down just enough to press his lips to Frank’s cheek. “I love you, you adorable idiot.”

“I love you too,” laughed Frank.

They reached the park in about five minutes, the walk spent in comfortable silence. Frank tried not to let Gerard notice the fact that he was shaking slightly. It wasn’t that he thought Gerard would turn him down, it was just. . ..nerve-wracking. The two began to meander along the dark dirt path, the trees creating a bit of an oasis in the center of the city. There were small lights along the sides of the path, giving off just enough light to see and not trip over any roots. Frank and Gerard came across an old bench, and Frank decided, _This is it. I’m going to ask him, right here and right now._

“Hey, Gee,” he said, barely able to speak for the butterflies bubbling up in his stomach. “Do you wanna sit down here for a few?”

“Sure,” Gerard agreed, walking over and taking a relaxed seat on the bench. He closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the blissful calm of the evening. Discreetly trying to dry his sweaty palms on his pants, Frank joined him, leaning his head on Gerard’s shoulder and breathing in deeply. Gerard had a nice scent, one of unknown spices and a lingering hint of coffee.

After a couple of minutes, Frank sat up and took Gerard’s hand, bringing his slightly confused eyes to meet his own. “Gee,” he began, clearing his throat a bit. “I love you. I always have and I always will. You’re the sunlight in my darkest hours, you’re the air when I’m drowning. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you were special. And throughout these past four years, that fact has only been proven to me time and time again. There’s no one quite like you, Gerard, and I’m infinitely grateful that I’m the one person, out of the billions here on this earth, who gets to call you mine.

“I never want to let you go or see you with anyone else. I want to grow old with you and spent my elderly days next to you in a rocking chair. There’s not a moment of the rest of my life that I don’t want to spend by your side.” Taking a deep breath, Frank smoothly moved from the bench to the ground, pulling out the box in his pocket as he sank onto one knee. “Gerard Arthur Way, will you marry me?”

Gerard’s eyes were shining with tears as he pulled Frank to his feet and whispered, “God, yes,” before kissing Frank like he never had before. Naturally, Frank kissed back, and when they finally broke apart, he took Gerard’s hand and slid the ring on. It was a simple thing, a swirling silver band that suited Gerard perfectly. They kissed again, and Gerard had a feeling that no matter how many pills he took, he would always remember that moment.


	2. The Making of Mistakes

_“Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them.” -Bob Dylan_

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Gerard woke up to sunlight streaming through the window and the smell of pancakes cooking downstairs. He yawned sleepily and sat up, rubbing his eyes. It was about a month after his and Frank’s wedding; he was now legally Gerard Iero-Way. Frank wasn’t in bed, and Gerard assumed that he was the one cooking. Of course, it wasn’t really like it could be anyone else.

Craving his customary coffee, Gerard swung his bare feet out of bed and made his uncoordinated way downstairs. The walls of the small house were still white and unadorned. He and Frank were still trying to completely unpack everything from their apartment and hadn’t put much thought into interior decoration yet. It would be nice to really make the home theirs, though.

When he reached the kitchen, Gerard was surprised to see Frank’s colleague Patrick Stump leaning on the wooden table. Frank and Patrick worked together in a local music shop in the city, but it wasn’t usual for them to see each other outside of work. “Uh, hey,” Gerard said awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and drawing the attention of both men, who had just been deep in conversation.

“Oh! Morning, Gee,” Frank said. “Sorry for the surprise. There’s been some drama at work, and Patrick asked if he could come by to sort it out. I made some pancakes if you’re hungry.”

“Oh, okay. Um, hey, Patrick.” Gerard cursed his voice for shaking slightly. He hated the anxiety that social situations inspired and his inability to hide it.

Patrick smiled, friendly as always. “Hey, Gerard. How have you been?”

“Uh, good, thanks. What, um, what about you?”

If Gerard’s clear uncomfortableness bothered Patrick, he didn’t show it. “Alright. Thanks for asking.”

Since he wasn’t socially required to answer, Gerard just started brewing himself a strong cup of coffee and took his morning Klonopin pill. Considering that Patrick was there and all, he would’ve very much liked to take an extra couple, but it wouldn’t be a good idea with two people so close by that could easily see. Gerard waited for his coffee and half-listened to Frank and Patrick’s conversation. They were leaned in towards each other, speaking quietly but intensely, but Gerard could still make out a couple of the words.

“Spencer- worried- last year- drunk- might- tonight- note-”

The coffee machine beeped softly, bringing Gerard’s attention back to the hot liquid that was slowly filling his mug. What were Frank and Patrick talking about? Hopefully, Frank would tell him after Patrick left, which would hopefully be soon. It wasn’t that Gerard didn’t like Patrick, because he did, he just hated not being able to prepare himself to be around people other than Frank. Gerard walked over and sat down at the table across from Frank, taking a sip of coffee and ignoring the way it scalded his tongue.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but it seemed like it had something to do with Spencer, another employee at the store. The little business was owned by Jon Walker, and everyone who worked there was like a family. If one of them needed help, the others would be rushing to help. After a few minutes, Frank and Patrick seemingly finished their conversation and sat back a bit from each other. They both looked worried, anxious.

"Gerard," Frank said, remembering to keep his voice low. Gerard hated it when people started getting really loud, especially at such times when he already felt vulnerable. "Spencer, one of the guys from work, is. . .considering suicide. He's been wrestling depression for years now, but. . .things seem to be getting bad. Trick and I are going to go find Andy and then try what we can to help Spence. I don't know when I'll be back, but it probably won't be for a while. Will you be alright here?"

"Yeah. You go take care of your friend, okay?"

Frank smiled with vague relief despite the worry evident in the creases of his brow. "Thanks, Gee. I love you." He rose from the table and gave Gerard a quick kiss before grabbing his coat and heading towards the door.

"I love you too," Gerard called quietly. Patrick stood as well, and then Gerard was left alone. He couldn't help but feel relieved, his heartbeat relaxing in the silence. He still felt too. . .on-edge, though. Too anxious. There was really only one way for him to get the calm he craved, and the secret lay in the blue pills tucked away in the cupboard.

Gerard knew that it was bad. He'd sat through D.A.R.E. in school, had seen several friends fall into the sinkhole of substance abuse. He knew that to get the same calm he needed, he would have to only take more and more pills over time. Yet he couldn't quite bring himself to care, the short-term effects proving to be far more persuasive than the long-term ones.

So he pushed his coffee to the side- as much as he loved it, the caffeine made him feel too alert- and walked over to the medicine cupboard, taking out the bottle and twisting the cap off. The tiny container felt too light in his hand, and he looked down to find that there were only about fifteen pills left. Well. He'd gotten a month's prescription of sixty-four about two weeks ago, and now he would have to go back to the pharmacy in a matter of days. It should've been a sign that he needed to slow down and be careful, but Gerard just looked at it as a, _"Damn it. I need to get some more."_

He shook out two pills before thinking, _You know, since I'm just going to have to go get more soon anyway, why not just finish this bottle today?_ It seemed like a perfectly acceptable idea, so Gerard took out four more before closing the lid. He popped them into his mouth in quick succession, one after another. Even though the medicine normally took a bit to take effect, just knowing that relief was on its way was comforting to Gerard. He wasn't really hungry, so he decided to just flop on the couch and watch a movie.

It was about three-quarters of the way through The Empire Strikes Back when Gerard felt his eyelids beginning to droop, even though it was eleven am. He rather liked sleeping, so he succumbed to the pills and closed his eyes.

He was woken rather abruptly three hours later by the obnoxious ringing of his cell phone. Eyes still hazy from sleep, Gerard unsteadily stood up from the couch and stretched briefly before making his way into that kitchen, where he was pretty sure he had left his phone. It wasn't there. He groaned in frustration and turned back to the living room. Maybe he had left the annoying device there last night or something. Thankfully, he found it there, lying on the coffee table and ringing shrilly. The sound was only amplifying the headache Gerard was currently sporting, so he practically lunged (well, as much as he could in his Klonopin haze) for the ACCEPT CALL button and put the phone to his ear, hoping that it was Frank. "Hello?"

"Hey, Gerard." It wasn't Frank.

"It's Bert."

Ah, yes. Bert McCracken. He was an old friend of Gerard's, though the two hadn't really spoken in several years. "Oh, hey, Bert." Gerard didn't mind conversation as much when it was via phone. There always seemed to be less pressure that way. "It's been a while. Almost three years, actually."

"Yeah, it really has been a while. That's why I'm calling. I figured, we need to catch up, that bar over on Greenwood Boulevard has not-that-shitty live music on Friday nights, it's a Friday, I’m in the area, so why not hang out tonight?"

Gerard considered this idea briefly. "That might be cool, I guess. What time?"

"I was thinking that I could come pick you up around nine, if that works for you."

"Yeah, that works. My address is 7435 Pyke Drive. It'll be fun."

"I hope so. See you later."

"See you." Bert ended the call, and Gerard sat back onto the couch with a sigh. What had he just gotten himself into? A whole night out in a crowded bar, filled with chatty drunk people? The pills weren't the only reason Gerard hadn’t been to a bar in ages. But then again, he and Bert had been pretty close, back in the day when not a single one of Gerard’s friends wasn’t on some sort of drug. He owed it to the guy to at least catch up for one night. Besides, Gerard had about six hours to get ready, so he would be able to sufficiently prepare himself and settle his anxiety enough not to completely flip out at the bar. He could always just take the rest of the Klonopin, after all. 

* * *

Gerard did end up taking the last nine pills before Bert arrived. The effects of the six he'd taken that morning hadn't really worn off yet, which led to a heavenly haze of sweet nothingness that Gerard hoped Bert didn't notice because he knew that Bert had enough connections to fix Gerard up with some seriously bad drugs within 48 hours. And as much as Gerard enjoyed the relaxation and calm, he didn't want to freak Frank out or hurt him by getting addicted to something like heroin or meth. At five past nine, the doorbell rang, echoing through the house noisily. Gerard picked himself up off of the couch and slowly, so as not to trip over his own feet or bump into a wall, went to answer the door.

He swung it open to reveal a grinning Bert McCracken, stringy black hair hanging down to his shoulders and a cigarette between his teeth. "Hey, Gerard. Good to see you, man."

"Good to see you too," Gerard replied. He felt collected, confident. It may not have been smart to overdose, but at least the pills were helping him.

"Shall we get going?"

"Of course." Gerard stepped out onto the porch before shutting and locking the door behind him. He and Bert then started walking to Bert's silver car, which was parked in the driveway.

"So, you got yourself a house now," Bert commented as they got into the car.

Gerard nodded. "Yeah, and a husband too."

Bert raised an eyebrow. "Really now. Who's the lucky fellow?"

"Frank Iero. You remember him from high school?"

"Frank Iero. . ." Bert ran the name through his mind as he backed out of the driveway. "You mean that guy who puked on you at Jamia Nestor's party back in senior year?"

Gerard laughed. "The very one."

"Huh. Guess I remember seeing you two hanging out a lot or something back then."

Gerard gave his friend a ' _seriously?_ ' glance. "Bert, you walked in on him giving me a blowjob once. How do you forget these things?"

"I did?" Bert asked, rolling the cigarette in his mouth. "I think I might remember something like that. Glad it's fuzzy, though. I was probably high at the time."

"Of course. When were you not high back then?"

"Practically never, to be honest. Don't worry, though, I finally got my act together and went to rehab. I'm officially three months clean."

"Impressive," Gerard said sincerely. Normally, when someone was as deep into the pit of drugs as Bert had been, the only escape was through the doors to the morgue. "So, what brings you around here? Last I recall, you were just chomping at the bit to get out of this town."

Bert shrugged. "I tried leaving but didn't really have the money, y'know? So I came back here. Had to live with my mom for a couple of months until I landed my job at the pet store down the way."

"Pet store? Really? That's, like, the last thing I would expect from you."

"Yeah, I never saw it coming myself. But it's actually really nice. The manager, Dan, is really passionate about the animals, hamsters especially."

"Hamsters?"

"Yeah. I don't know, man. He's odd, always mumbling about hats and cherries and weird shit like that. But he pays me well, so it's cool."

Gerard really just didn't know what to say to that. "Sounds....interesting, I guess."

"It is. But enough about me. What about you? You got hitched, have a house. . .no kids?"

"No kids. Not yet, anyway. I mean, we've never really talked about it, but having one or two would be cool. There's not much of anything going in my life at the moment, honestly. I work at the art center downtown, painting and teaching some of the students."

"Sounds like you've got a nice life made out for yourself." It wasn't a jealous statement, just an observation.

Gerard nodded. "Yeah, it's good. I've certainly calmed down from high school."

"I can tell. I'm surprised that you don't have any piercings or ink. None that I can see, anyway. . ." Bert trailed off, giving Gerard a mock-suggestive wink.

Rolling his eyes, Gerard replied, "I've told you, Bert, I can't do needles. No way."

"Maybe one day," said Bert as he pulled into the parking lot of Spillwayz, the most popular bar in the area. Gerard could already see the pulsing lights shining from the windows and make out the silhouettes of many dancing people. "Here we are."

He and Gerard climbed out of the car and went inside. A local band of emo-looking teens called Delusional Feedback was playing in the corner. They actually sounded alright, and they reminded Gerard of the time that he had considered forming a band. It had just been an idea, though. The two men took adjacent seats at the crowded bar and Bert ordered a shot of whiskey.

When the bartender turned to Gerard, he had a feeling that drinking anything with the amount of pills in his system would be a really bad idea, but he asked for a glass of beer anyway. What was the worst that could happen?

"Just a beer? Going light, huh?" Bert pointed out.

Gerard nodded. "Yeah, I've been trying not to drink a lot these days. I'm trying to distance myself from the idiot I used to be." It was bullshit, to put it blatantly. The only reason Gerard had stopped drinking was so as not to worry Frank too much.

But Bert seemed to buy the excuse. "I get what you mean. We were some dumbass high-schoolers, weren't we?" The bartender slid Gerard and Bert their drinks and Bert took a sip almost instantly, tossing a 'thanks' over his shoulder.

"We really were," Gerard agreed. He tentatively took a small drink of beer, the burn of the alcohol familiar on his tongue, despite having not felt it in so long. "Remember the time that you showed up to science stoned?"

Bert chuckled. "How could I forget? Mr. Witcher was so pissed. . ."

"When was he not pissed?"

"Good point. He was beyond pissed or something that day. Oh, and remember the time that I started hitting on Lindsey Ballato's mom at that party when she came to ground Lindsey?"

"I still don't understand how you confused her for a high school chick, honestly," said Gerard, shaking his head in reminiscence and taking another swig of beer.

"In my defense, that was the night that Bob brought a ton of coke to the party and I tried it for the first time. I was, like, extremely high."

"Still. She was, like, in her forties."

And the night flew by, a blur of lights and laughter and empty glasses. Without being entirely aware of what exactly he was doing, Gerard had succeeded in getting drunker than he'd been since the days of Saturday night parties in high school. Bert was drinking quite a bit as well, but he'd always been far better at holding his liquor than Gerard and was only slightly intoxicated. It was about one in the morning when somewhere in the back of Gerard's mind, there was a little tug telling him that he really needed to cut it out with the beer and call it a night. He knew that it was probably right and managed to tell Bert, through slurred words, that he'd better be getting home. Bert understood, and the pair stumbled out into the cold air. Bert decided that it would be better for him to drive, so he took the wheel and listened amusedly to Gerard's ramblings about Frank. He had no idea about the pills and figured that the only repercussion to their night out would be a hangover the next day, so hearing his old friend talk like a young child was nothing but entertaining.

"And, Bert, he's got these, these eyes, and they're just. . .I don't know. They just look like little pools are warm tea. Not that I like tea. I hate it, actually. But I like Frankie. I like him a lot. He has tattoos, Bert," Gerard confided, as if it was some huge secret. "They're really pretty, and my favorite one is the scorpion on his neck.

"Oh, and Frank's a really good singer. He says he isn't, but I know he is. His voice is like. . .angels or something. Frankie's like an angel. Wait-Bert?"

"What?" he asked patiently.

"Do you think Frankie's my guardian angel?"

"He very well could be," Bert answered diplomatically.

Gerard looked up at the ceiling, as if expecting his husband to descend from on high with wings and a halo. "I bet he is. I'll ask him about it tomorrow or something. I just really love him, you know? I don't know how on Earth I got lucky enough to have him, but I'm really happy that I did. I love him so much, Bert. Do you think that he knows?"

"I'm sure that he does," reassured Bert.

"Good. Wait, where are we driving to again?"

"Your house, like I told you two minutes ago."

"Oh. Okay." He sighed. "Have I told you about Frank, my husband?"

"Yes. Many times."

"Oh," Gerard said again. "Well, I love him a lot. He's really pretty. Like, I don't think boys are supposed to be pretty, but Frankie is. He asked me to marry him. I remember it. We were outside in the park when he asked me. I don't think I'll ever forget the speech he said. He said, 'Gee, I love you. I always have and I always will. You're the sunlight in my darkest hours, you're the air when I'm drowning. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you were special. And throughout these past four years, that fact has only been proven to me time and time again. There's no one quite like you, Gerard, and I'm infinitely grateful that I'm the one person, out of the billions here on this earth, who gets to call you mine. I never want to let you go or see you with anyone else. I want to grow old with you and spent my elderly days next to you in a rocking chair. There's not a moment of the rest of my life that I don't want to spend by your side.' "And then he got down on one knee and said, 'Gerard Arthur Way, will you marry me?' And I said yes, of course, because I love Frankie."

Gerard fell contentedly silent then, but Bert cast him an awed glance. How had he remembered that entire speech, even while drunk off of his ass? He must really have been in love with Frank.

"Where are we going again?"

Bert sighed light-heartedly. "Your house, Gerard."

"Oh."

* * *

"Bye, Bert! I'll tell Frankie you said hi!"

"Are you sure that you'll be able to get inside alright?" Bert called from his seat in the car.

Gerard was standing on the porch, trying to open the door. "Yeah, I got this. We should do this again, okay?"

"Okay," Bert laughed. Gerard finally succeeded in opening the door and he went inside without looking back, almost as if he'd forgotten about Bert's presence. Completely unaware of the damage he'd just caused, Bert drove away into the dark night.

Meanwhile, Gerard had managed to stumble upstairs and fall on top of the bed. There was something telling him that sleeping would be a really bad idea with the pills and alcohol running rampant and mixing in his system, but he was too tired to try and fight the sleep already beginning to claim him. So he closed his eyes and succumbed, his heartbeat slowing dangerously.

Just under an hour later, Frank came home, yawning and exhausted but relieved that Spencer was still alive and currently getting signed up for therapy.

"Gee?" he called uncertainly, unsure of whether or not his husband was still awake. "I'm home, love."

There was no answer, so Frank stopped in the kitchen to get a quick drink of water before he went to sleep. While sitting at the table, he spotted a crumpled napkin lying on the floor and got up to throw it away. As the white paper fluttered into the trash can, Frank noticed the empty pill bottle lying amongst the rubbish and recognized it as Gerard's Klonopin container. _That's strange,_ he thought. _I thought that Gerard got another month's worth just two weeks ago_. But he just shrugged the incident off as a fault of his memory and went upstairs to sleep.

When he got there, he was off-put by the sight of his husband sprawled out on top of the covers with all of his clothes still on. Frank was about to brush it off as another one of Gerard's strange yet endearing antics when he suddenly noticed that he couldn't see the rise and fall of his chest like normal. Trying not to panic, Frank leaned down over Gerard's mouth, trying to sense a breath. It was there, but just barely, a tiny, weak puff of air gently tickling Frank's cheek. He had absolutely no idea what had happened but he knew that he had to get help as soon as possible. Yanking his phone from his pocket, Frank dialed 911. "Hello? Yes, it's my husband. H-he's barely breathing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading:)


	3. Forty Percent

_“Nothing can last forever. There isn't any memory, no matter how intense, that doesn't fade out at last.” -Juan Rulfo_

It was an early morning haze of fear and worry. There were sirens and voices and questions, there were beeping machines and irregular heartbeats. Frank was terrified as he sat in the hall of the hospital, unable to see his husband. The doctors had told him that they would let him in once Gerard was in a stable condition, but the waiting was agony. His head was still spinning, if he was honest, trying to make sense of what exactly was going on.

Frank had just gotten home from saving Spencer. That in itself had been taxing. He loved his friend, and it had been excruciating to see him so close to taking his own life. But that had been nothing compared to coming home and seeing his husband lying on the bed and minutes from death. What had happened to Gerard? The doctors had asked, of course, but Frank had been forced to admit that he had no idea.

What could have even happened? Gerard wasn’t the type to go to parties or anything, and it wasn’t like he did heroin or anything like that. . . . _Wait,_ Frank thought suddenly, a memory hitting him. _The Klonopin bottle in the trash._ _Maybe he_ did _just get a refill two weeks ago._

But would he really overdose? It didn’t seem like something that Gerard would do, but he was an unpredictable person. Looking back on the past months, Gerard had been acting a little out of sorts. He had been less coordinated than before, and his memory certainly hadn’t been up to par. Why hadn’t Frank seen it coming? Was he really that blind? It seemed that he was. But why? Had it been. . .on purpose? Frank felt sick at the thought that it might have been intentional, that it might have been a suicide attempt. No. That couldn’t be it. It had to have been accidental. Gerard would never do that to him. Gerard wouldn’t.

“Mr. Iero-Way? You can come in now.” A soft voice drew Frank’s attention, and he looked up at the doctor standing in the doorway of Gerard’s room.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Frank said as he rose quickly and stepped into the room. There were several doctors, but all but the one that had let Frank in left when he entered. He paid them no mind, though, completely focused on the man lying in the bed.

Gerard’s black hair was a shock against the white sheets. His face was pale like a winter moon, almost as if all of the color had been leeched from it. “Is he. . .?” The question slipped from Frank’s lips and hung in the antiseptic silence of the hospital room.

“He’s alive right now,” the doctor answered gently. “But he’s in a coma. Mr. Iero-Way, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll explain what exactly is happening with your husband?”

Numbly, Frank took a seat in the wooden chair by Gerard’s bed while the doctor pulled up a chair of his own. “Okay. This isn’t going to be easy to hear, and I apologize for that. But I’m not going to sugarcoat anything, alright?”

“Alright.” Frank’s voice was a hoarse whisper.

The doctor- Frank saw that his ID read Dr. Urie- sighed sadly. It was easy to see that he hated delivering bad news. “Well, like I said, Gerard is currently in a comatose state. There’s about a 40% chance that he’ll wake up, and if he does, it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll be the same. For example, he may suffer brain damage such as amnesia.”

_Forty percent. Forty percent_. The number echoed in Frank’s head noisily, banging around and shouting the improbability at top volume. “W-what put him into the coma?” he asked, fearful of the answer.

Dr. Urie looked sympathetic as he replied, “Gerard was on Klonopin, but he overdosed. We’re not entirely sure yet, but it seems very likely that he’s been overdosing for several months now.” _Several months now. Overdose._

“God. . .” Frank breathed, tears rising unbidden to his eyes. How stupid had he been?

“We’re not sure yet, though,” Dr. Urie reminded him. “However, what made this incident so severe was that Gerard not only took a lot of Klonopin, but he also ingested a great amount of alcohol. We had to pump his stomach to keep him alive.”

“Alcohol? But. . .Gerard’s been sober for years, ever since he started the pills, and we don’t even have any in the house.” Frank’s breath was short and unsteady, and he gripped the armrests of the chair firmly in the hopes that it would make everything stop spinning around him. “Wait- can you tell if he-” The words stuck in his throat. “If this was-”

“I don’t know if this was intentional,” Dr. Urie said quietly. “The only way to know is to ask Gerard himself, or to ask anyone who saw him in the hours before you did. Do you know of who he may have been around?”

Frank tried to think through the tangle of _40% chance, overdose, several months, amnesia, great amount of alcohol, 40% chance,_ in his head. “I-I don’t think so. Gerard has social anxiety. It’s not like him to go out often.”

“Well, then that’s a dead end. Our only real hope right now is to wait and pray that Gerard wakes up.”

Frank nodded slowly. “I should probably call his brother, he’ll want to know about this. . .” he pulled out his phone and started punching in numbers, eyes blurred by tears, but was stopped by a calming hand on his arm.

“Frank,” Dr. Urie said. “It’s four in the morning. You’ve been up for hours. I suggest that you try and get some sleep and sort everything else out tomorrow. Okay? You need to take care of yourself too. If Gerard wakes up, he’s going to need you ready to support him.”

Frank knew that Dr. Urie was right, and though he hated it, he let himself doze off by Gerard’s bedside, refusing to leave his husband’s side until he was awake and okay again.

* * *

He spent the first four days alone, save the machines keeping Gerard alive and the constant flow of doctors and nurses. He talked to Gerard a lot, asking him why and please wake up, but never receiving any semblance of an answer.

Mikey showed up on the fifth day, worrying about his older brother. Frank had called him, of course, but he hadn’t expected him to show up as soon as he did. “Hey, Frank,” the younger Way brother said as he stepped into the quiet room.

Frank’s head jerked up at the sound. He’d only gotten about ten hours of sleep in the past five days, terrified that he would miss Gerard waking up, and had been about to drift off as a result. “Oh, hey, Mikey. Sorry, I was just trying to catch a bit of sleep.”

“No, it’s alright,” he assured. “So. . .how’s Gerard?” Mikey’s voice was small and fragile. Frank could hear how terrified he was of losing his older brother.

“He’s alive. I don’t know how much the doctor told you. . .”

Mikey sat down in the chair opposite Frank and looked down at his brother. Gerard looked the same as he had five days ago, pale and lifeless, tubes and wires spiraling all around him. “He didn’t tell me anything. All I know is that he’s in a coma.”

“Oh. Well, yes, he’s in a coma. He, uh,” Frank hated the words coming from his mouth, and he tried to distance the cold terms from the man he loved. “He overdosed on his anxiety pills and got drunk at the same time. There’s only a 40% chance that he’ll wake up, and the doctor says that that’s only gonna go down as time passes.” Though he’d already been hearing the words inside of his head since the moment he’d first heard them, saying the reality of the situation brought tears to Frank’s eyes again.

“Oh,” said Mikey, very quietly. His shoulders were slumped, and even though his gaze was fixated on his brother’s face, Frank could see the tears brimming behind his glasses. “I’m sorry for crying, it’s just. . . .”

“It’s okay. I get it.” The only thing was, it _wasn’t_ okay. It wouldn’t be okay until Gerard was awake and healed and out of the hospital.

Suddenly, Mikey spoke up again, voice shaking. “Frank? Did, did Gerard do this on purpose?”

Frank looked down at his lap. “I don’t know. I hope not, but. . . . .I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Mikey said again. “Do you think that I could have a minute or two alone with him?”

“Of course,” Frank said. He didn’t want to leave Gerard, but he understood. So he rose and stepped out into the hallway, deciding that he could at least take advantage of the opportunity and get some coffee or something. Dr. Urie had been kind enough to bring Frank water and food from the shitty hospital cafeteria, but Frank had really been craving a cup of coffee.

He made his way to the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor. The only other occupant in the small mechanical box was a fairly short man with messy black hair and a fringe many emo high-schoolers would kill for. When Frank got in, the man turned and offered him a smile. "I hope whatever you're going through turns out alright," he said kindly.

"T-thank you," replied Frank, slightly caught off-guard by the unexpected kindness. "Uh, you too. I mean, like, what you're dealing wi-"

"I know. Thanks. It's not me, though, it's actually my boyfriend. His brother is in a coma."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Frank said automatically, though he did mean the words genuinely. "My husband is in a coma too. Wait- what's your boyfriend's name?"

"Mikey," the stranger answered. "Mikey Way."

Frank would've laughed if his life had been happier. "Your boyfriend is my husband's brother. I'm married to Gerard."

"Really? It's a small world," the man marveled. "Oh, I'm Pete, by the way. Pete Wentz."

He held out a hand, which Frank shook. "I'm Frank Iero-Way. So, you're dating my brother-in-law?"

"It seems so. I was just driving him here; he asked me not to stay. He can be pretty proud, doesn’t want me to see him cry." The elevator doors opened, and they both stepped out. Pete was obviously headed in a different direction than Frank, so they said their goodbyes and parted. Right before Frank was out of earshot, Pete called, "Frank? I just want you to know. . .I think Gerard will make it. Mikey's told me stories, and he seems tough."

Frank's throat seemed very tight as he choked out a, "Thanks, Pete," before walking into the cafeteria.

* * *

The weeks passed without Frank really noticing. For him, time had become measured in nurse visits and bathroom breaks, the comings and goings of Mikey and, sometimes, Pete. It all just kind of. . .blurred together in a haze of concern. Gerard never changed. He remained hooked up to the machines, their soft beeps and hisses the only sign that he was still alive.

Frank still talked to him, though, speaking until his voice was hoarse. He talked to Gerard about how cold the hospital was and how shitty the coffee was. He told him all about Pete and how Nurse Ross and Dr. Urie were _definitely_ having an affair.

But Frank mostly talked about how he missed Gerard. How he loved him. How he was praying that the whole mess hadn’t been a suicide attempt. That was one of his greatest fears: that Gerard had intentionally sent himself into what could be endless sleep. And maybe Frank was paranoid, what with the whole Spencer thing and all, but still. He knew that Gerard had struggled with depression back in school. Hell, he’d been a firsthand witness to some of his husband’s roughest times. But after getting sober, he’d pulled himself free from the negativity. But did he really? Frank asked himself. If he was completely honest, he was nothing short of terrified of the answer.

And the worst part of the whole ordeal? Each passing day meant less and less of a chance that he would ever know the truth.


	4. Thursday

_ “Memory is all we are. Moments and feelings, captured in amber, strung on filaments of reason. Take a man’s memories and you take all of him.” _ _ -Mark Lawrence _

 

Before Frank even noticed that the world outside of the window was becoming barren and white more often than not, it was January. A new year. Gerard had been in a coma for about two months with no signs of waking up. Dr. Urie came in one monotonous Tuesday with a heavy stride and closed-off face. He took a seat in one of the notoriously uncomfortable chairs around Gerard’s bed and turned to Frank and Mikey, who were both visiting Gerard at the time. Tactfully, he didn’t comment on the dark circles under Frank’s eyes or the wrinkled clothes he’d been wearing for almost a week.

“Frank. Mikey.” He acknowledged their presences with a small nods, the first-name basis a byproduct of the time they had spent around each other. “Okay. This isn’t going to be pleasant, but we need to talk. Gerard’s been in this coma for two months without any sign of brain activity, base functions aside. And the machines are even assisting his body with some of those. At this point, it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll ever wake up.”

Mikey closed his eyes and nodded, exhaling deeply. Frank tried to take in the words that he’d known would be coming.

“I know this is hard,” Dr. Urie continued carefully. “But. . .it might be time to start considering. . .ah, letting Gerard go.”

“ _ What?”  _ gasped Frank. He’d had a feeling that this was coming, but facing it head-on. . . “You mean, pull the plug?” The last three words were treacherous snakes, slipping out into the air and spreading their deadly poison to everyone in the room.

“Yes. I’m sorry. But there are other patients that could. . .benefit more from this space. I know this is all very hard to take in and accept, trust me. I understand. But this is something we need to seriously start thinking about.”

Mikey seemed to be trying to take a very logical and impersonal approach to the whole thing. “Is there a time frame we’re looking at?” he asked quietly, blunt words landing like a stone that failed to skip.

“I would say within the next two weeks,” Dr. Urie responded remorsefully. 

“But. . .this is  _ Gerard.  _ He’s going to pull through. Just give him more time,  _ please,”  _ Frank said, his tone dangerously close to begging, if not already there. 

“Frank, I know that this is hard. In fact, this is probably the hardest thing that you will ever have to do. But believe me when I say that it only gets harder the longer you wait,” Dr. Urie said. “I’ve gone through this countless times, and I’ve seen how much simpler it is to let go quickly, instead of saying, ‘One more day, one more day,’ until you’ve wasted your entire life away on a lost cause.”

“You’re probably right,” Mikey chimed in. His stony gaze was trained on the floor, eyes tracing the edges of the ugly tiles. “What about Thursday?”

“ _ Thursday?”  _ The word trembled as it fell from Frank’s lips. “That’s two days from now.”

Mikey looked up then, eyes watering behind his crooked glasses as he met Frank’s shell-shocked stare. “I know. Just. . .I don’t think that Gerard would’ve wanted this- lying in a hospital bed for months while you let your life slip away.”

His use of the past tense was not unnoticed by Frank, but his attention was more focused on the brutal truth of Mikey’s words. It wasn’t what Gerard would want. Frank knew that. But he still didn’t want to let his husband go. Honestly, who would?

“Mikey. . . you’re right. I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but. . .” Frank could feel the lump swelling in his throat as he forced the words out. “Let’s do it Thursday.” It was barely there, not even a whisper, but the four little words spelled out the end of what felt like the world.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

What little conviction Frank had possessed Tuesday morning was long gone by Wednesday night. Two am found him still by Gerard’s bedside, eyes long since devoid of tears and voice hoarse.

“Eight hours, Gee. Eight hours. Are you listening, love? I need you to wake up. Please. I don’t want to let you go, Gee. Not now, not today, not  _ ever.  _ Please wake up.”

Nothing. No response. Not even a twitch. It was a repetitive, expected sort-of disappointment, one that Frank had been experiencing all night. He braced his elbows against his thighs and buried his face in his hands, dry sobs wracking his shaky frame. “God, Gee, I can’t do this without you. I  _ need  _ you. Please. I love you so fucking much, more than anything. Please,  _ please _ , wake up. I just can’t do this without you.”

Again, nothing. Frank fell silent, save his choppy, irregular breaths. The only other sounds in the room were the now-familiar workings of the machines keeping Gerard alive. They pushed the air into his lungs and pumped his heart, sent the blood through his arteries and back through his veins. Frank watched the slight rise and fall of Gerard’s chest and wondered if he was really gone. If what made Gerard Gerard had already left, and the only illusion of life left was from the machines that would be shut down all too soon.

Frank really just didn’t know what to do anymore. What would his life be like after ten o’clock? After Gerard. . .left? Could he ever return to the home they’d used to share? Sleep in the bed with sheets that would probably still smell like Gerard? Cook in the kitchen where Gerard used to burn food all of the time? Walk down the hallway that Gerard had passed through countless times? Frank didn’t think that he would be able to face it, but he didn’t know a way to avoid it. 

Running his hands through his hair stressfully, Frank looked up at the ceiling, all white and speckled, and did something he hadn’t done in years. Frank prayed.

“God, I don’t know if You can hear me, or if You care, or what. I know that I haven’t prayed to You in years, and You probably know that I’m not really sorry about that. It is what it is. But I need You right now. You know that Gerard’s in a coma. And hey, maybe You don’t care because he’s gay or whatever, but I’m still going to ask You for help. Please, God, do something. I love Gerard so much, I can’t live without him. I need a miracle. Please. I’ll go to church, I’ll pray more, anything. Just please save Gerard. He doesn’t deserve to die like this, and not at this age. Please, God. Please.”

His voice broke, and Frank squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears away. He was out of options. If God didn’t do anything, if Gerard was really gone.. . .then it was done. It was over. It was the end.

Frank had heard of overwhelming grief being described as ‘numbing’ before. That wasn’t what it felt like to him. Every cell of his body was aching, being slowly crushed by the impending loss of Gerard. It was consuming, too much for his emotions to handle. Yet they refused to shut down, and Frank was left with so much pain that he wished more than anything to stop feeling. That, he supposed, was why so many people turned to drugs, to alcohol, to the highs that helped them escape the world. And while he knew what they could do to people’s lives, if you had offered Frank cocaine in that moment, he probably would’ve taken it without a second thought. Desperation does scary things to people, after all.

Thankfully, though, no one was around to offer Frank cocaine or any other drug, and he was stuck with his emotions. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Three am. Nothing from Gerard. Frank was silent, praying wordlessly for his husband to wake up. His cheeks ended up soaked, even though he couldn’t really believe that there was a drop left in his body.

 

Four am. Still nothing. The sky outside of the window was dark. It was raining. Frank just stared at Gerard, searching hopelessly for a sign of life. 

 

Five am. Frank was pacing the room, trying desperately to think of a way for Gerard to be saved. He came up with nothing, and the clock only antagonized him further with its too-quick countdown to the end.

 

Six am. Gerard still hadn’t changed. Frank was sitting in a corner, trying to hold back tears and convince himself that Gerard would be okay, somehow.

 

Seven am. The sky was brightening with the arrival of the sun, but the dreary gray rainclouds blocked most of the light. Frank was back in the chair by Gerard’s bed, pleading for him to wake up.

 

Eight am. Dr. Urie came in to find Frank still talking to Gerard. He gently put his hand on Frank’s shoulder and suggested he step outside for a minute, but Frank refused. He was spending every last minute with Gerard, no questions there. Dr. Urie left to check on his other patients with a promise to return later. Frank knew what his return would mean, though, and dreaded the second he saw the doctor’s large forehead again.

 

Nine am. The clouds outside were clearing up. Frank resented the sunshine, the weather far too bright for such an occasion. He told Gerard this, and it was a punch in the gut when there was  _ Still. No. Answer.  _

 

9:15am. Frank sat by Gerard’s bedside and took his cold hand, rubbing his thumb gently over the cool skin.

 

9:20am. Frank resisted the urge to try and kiss Gerard awake, Sleeping Beauty-style. Mikey came in as well, clutching Pete’s hand tightly. Frank tried not to resent them for having each other, someone to hold, someone to love. 

 

9:25am. Frank could’ve sworn that he saw Gerard twitch when he squeezed his hand. When he mentioned it to Mikey, though, the younger man just sighed and said that he was trying not to get his hopes up anymore.

 

9:27am. Frank knew that he  _ had  _ seen a twitch that time. Tentatively, he squeezed Gerard’s hand. The next second, he nearly fell out of his chair: Gerard had squeezed back. Sure, it had been light, barely detectable, but  _ it had happened.  _

 

9:29am. Dr. Urie was bustling around, checking machines and charts. Frank was still holding Gerard’s hand.   
“Do you think he’s going to wake up?” Frank asked.

Dr. Urie pursed his lips as he looked at the heart monitor. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, but. . . .it’s a possibility.”

Frank couldn’t stop the excitement filling his bones. Mikey looked at Pete and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

 

9:36am. Hazel. Beautiful, beautiful hazel eyes, blinking open and clearing. Frank didn’t think that he’d ever seen such a beautiful color in his entire life. Gerard took in a huge breath, and Dr. Urie shooed Frank, Pete, and Mikey back. 

“Gerard?” Dr. Urie asked gently. “How are you feeling?”

There was a pause, and Gerard’s eyes flickered with confusion, probably because of the stranger hovering over him. Finally, he croaked out, “Water.”

And heaven forbid if that wasn’t the most amazing word Frank Iero-Way had ever heard in his entire goddamn life.

 

9:42am. Gerard had gotten some water, and Dr. Urie was finally letting Frank talk to Gerard. As he approached the bed by which he had spent so many days, Frank felt tears building in his eyes. He had never thought that he would get to see Gerard’s eyes again, let alone hear his voice. 

“Hey, Gee. H-how are you?” His voice shook as he looked at the pale face of his husband.

Gerard’s eyes grew slightly cloudy and there was no mistaking the flicker of confusion on his face this time. “Uh, I’m sorry. . .” He fidgeted with the edge of the sheet and wouldn’t meet Frank’s eyes.

Frank was used to seeing Gerard act like this, it was the social anxiety. Yet it hadn’t been directed at him for years. “Why are you apologizing, love?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”

Gerard bit his lip and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “But. . .who are you?


	5. If This Was A Fairy Tale

_“Memories, even bittersweet ones, are better than nothing.” -Jennifer Armentrout_

* * *

_Gerard bit his lip and looked away. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “But. . .who are you?”_

* * *

It was as if the entire world had just been ripped out from under Frank’s feet. Trying not to freak out, he replied, “I’m Frank. Your-your husband.”

Gerard’s brow furrowed. “I’m really, really sorry, but I don’t know you.”

Dr. Urie came over then, frowning. “Frank, please step back for a moment. Gerard, please try and relax, okay?” Frank took a hesitant, unsteady step back. Mikey was standing in the corner with Pete, almost all of his weight dead against him. Dr. Urie turned to Gerard, who looked terrified and confused. “Okay. We’re going to sort everything out, okay? So, first, do you remember your name?”

Gerard’s face looked blank. “Well, you called me Gerard, and he called me Gee. . .those both kinda sound right.”

“Okay. Well, your name is Gerard. Do you remember anything else? Names, ages, places, anything?”

Gerard screwed up his face in concentration. “Uh, no. Nothing. What happened? Where am I? _Who_ am I?”

“Slow down,” the doctor said gently. “One thing at a time. You’re in the hospital right now. My name is Dr. Urie. I’ve been taking care of you. You were in a coma for two months.”

“A coma? Why?” Dr. Urie took a long breath. “You overdosed on pills and alcohol. I don’t know if it was on purpose or not.”

“You mean. . .I might’ve tried to kill myself?”

“We don’t know. I’m sorry. Now, Gerard, you obviously have some knowledge. . .how do you know these things?”

He thought for a minute before answering carefully. “I don’t know. It’s weird. It’s like, after you told me that I was in a hospital, I instantly knew that hospitals are where people go when they’re sick. Stuff like that. I just. . .don’t remember how I know that stuff.”

“Okay. So it seems like you have some form of amnesia, but certain things will trigger information in your mind. I wonder if that holds true with memories. . .” Dr. Urie turned around. “Mikey? Will you come here for a second?” Mikey squeezed Pete’s hand before releasing it and walking over next to Gerard’s bed. “Okay,” said Dr. Urie. “Mikey, let Gerard get a good look at you. Gerard, tell me what comes to mind when you see him, alright?”

Gerard studied Mikey’s unsure face for several long beats. “I. . .something about. . . .brother?”

Mikey nodded, hope returning to his face. “Yes, we’re brothers. Anything else?”

“Something like. . .waves. Beach, the ocean.”

“The ocean?” Mikey thought for a while. “We went to the ocean together when we were both really little. Like, we were so young, I only 'remember’ it from pictures. How do you remember that?”

“It’s probably because that memory was deep-rooted,” Dr. Urie said. “I’d bet that Gerard’s early memories and such are going to come back long before anything within the last decade. And those might not ever come back.”

“Last decade?” Gerard repeated. “How old am I?”

Dr. Urie turned to Frank for the answer, not sure off of the top of his head. “Twenty-three,” Frank supplied, voice dull. If the doctor was right and Gerard wouldn’t remember the last decade. . .he wouldn’t remember Frank. The two had met when they were eighteen.

“Twenty-three,” said Gerard. “Huh. Wait, who are you again?” His question was directed at Frank, and while it was meant innocently, it still hurt for Frank to hear.

“I’m Frank,” the heart-broken man explained. “Your husband.”

Gerard looked at him for a long time; it felt like an eternity. “Wait. . .” he said. “I’m gay?”

Frank nodded. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” The room was almost silent until Gerard spoke again. “I’m sorry, but. . can I just be alone for a few? I need to process this.”

“O-okay,” Frank stammered, obligingly taking several steps out into the hallway. Mikey followed a couple of seconds later, though it honestly looked more like Pete was simply pulling his limp, shocked body out of the room.

Long past the point of caring about what anyone else thought, Frank sank down against the cool plaster wall. He was too emotionally drained to actually produce tears, but he couldn't stop the dry sobs that sent his body heaving. When he had felt Gerard squeeze his hand, he'd thought that their ordeal was over. That everything was okay. But no. Everything had just gone further to shit, in a way that Frank had never even considered, despite Dr. Urie’s early warning. Gerard had amnesia. Gerard had forgotten the amazing four and a half years that he and Frank had spent together. All of it was gone from his mind, and no one knew if he would ever get it back.

On the opposite side of the hallway, Mikey was leaning numbly against Pete, silent tears streaming down his thin cheeks in narrow rivulets. Pete was holding him, whispering soothing nothings into his ear and gently rubbing his back. The sight sent a surge of irrational jealousy through Frank: he no longer had someone to hold, to comfort. Gerard had survived, but with the state he was in, it was as if he was dead. He was gone, for Frank. It hurt so much, the grim reality of it all. If their lives were a fairy tale, Gerard would’ve woken up, seen Frank, and the two would’ve shared a passionate kiss or something equally romantic. If their lives were a fairy tale, it would've been a wicked witch who sent Gerard into the coma in the first place, not drugs and alcohol. Definitely not himself, if that's what it had been. With that thought, Frank realized something just as, if not more, awful.

If Gerard really would never remember the things that happened right before he went into the coma, no one would ever know if it was a suicide attempt or not. Frank felt even worse, if that was even possible at that point. He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to stifle some of the sobs still ripping through his small frame. After nearly twenty minutes, he had calmed down enough to steady his breathing and stand up, though he was still slightly sagging against the wall for support.

Kind as always, Pete looked over from where he and Mikey had migrated to a nearby bench. “You alright, Frank?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned for the other man’s well-being.

“As alright as I can be, I guess,” Frank replied. “What about you and Mikey?”

Pete gave his boyfriend a supportive squeeze with one arm and gave a weak smile. “We’ll be alright.” In all honesty, both Frank and Pete were lying, but neither really cared to point out the blatant truth. The hallway fell silent once more, and Pete appeared to be trying to decide whether to invite Frank to join him and Mikey in cuddling or just leave him to grieve alone.

Thankfully, he was saved the hassle of making a decision when Dr. Urie opened the door of Gerard’s room and stepped out. Frank immediately turned to him. “How’s Gerard? Is he okay? Do you think this is going to be permanent?”

Dr. Urie blew out a heavy sigh. His furrowed brows were spreading wrinkles all across the expansive mass of his forehead. “Gerard’s asleep at the moment. Amnesia aside, I think he’ll be okay. But I don't know if his condition is going to be permanent or not.”

Frank took in the news silently, inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly so he didn't break down again. “Okay. Thanks, Dr. Urie.”

“Just doing my job,” he replied. “Now, Frank, it's not just Gerard's health that I'm concerned about here. You’ve literally been living at this hospital for nearly two months, mostly because I just haven't had the heart to make you leave. However, I think you need to go home tonight. Get some good rest. You can come back tomorrow, but now that Gerard’s awake and everything, I will need to start enforcing regular visiting hours. You can come see him at 11:00am, if you want.”

Frank was going to argue, but then he realized that Dr. Urie _did_ have a point. With a sigh, he said, “Okay. Again, thanks for everything.” He started walking off towards the elevators but paused to say goodbye to Pete and Mikey. “Hey, Mikey, hang in there. You're always welcome at my place. And, Pete? Thanks for being here, man.”

Frank held out his hand in an invitation to shake, but Pete ignored and stood up to give him a warm hug. “Frank, call anytime. Stay safe, man.”

“Thanks, Pete,” Frank said again, voice thick with emotion, before stepping away and getting into the elevator. It had a weird sort of finality to it, the elevator ride. It wasn't that Frank would never be back, because he was planning on being back at the hospital by 11:30am at the latest the next day, but it was still strange to know that he wouldn't be rushing back to the hospital as soon as he’d taken a quick shower and grabbed some extra clothes. No, this time was different. This time, Frank was actually going home. It would be painful, that much he already knew. During the long two months at the hospital, he'd always assumed that his first time really going home again would be with Gerard by his side. Never had he considered the possibility that he would be leaving Gerard at the hospital, leaving him alive but still so... _not okay_. 

* * *

It was only about 10:25am when Frank pulled into the driveway. The house looked abandoned, empty, and Frank knew that his presence alone wouldn't be nearly enough to fill the vacant corners inside. Clenching his fist tightly so he wouldn't break down again, Frank made his way up to the front porch and turned the small silver key in the lock. It opened with a soft click, and Frank slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. It felt wrong from the start. Every moment of habitance in the home since that awful November day had been frantic and worried, leaving the house with a distinctly disturbed aura. Frank tried to ignore it, but the angst hung too thickly in the air to be shaken off. It was everywhere, seeping into his every pore and overtaking his body. He had barely managed to firmly close the door behind him before he collapsed against the wall of the small foyer. Frank felt utterly useless; it seemed that all he could do as of late was curl up in various places and cry. However, without Gerard, doing anything else seemed entirely pointless.

* * *

_Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzz. Bzzzz._ It was a few hours later, and Frank had calmed down just enough to stumble shakily into the bedroom. He hadn't been into the room for more than ten rushed minutes to grab clothes since the day of the. . . . _incident_ , as he chose to refer to it, and it wasn't pleasant. Gerard lingered everywhere, in the lone picture of him and Frank on the nightstand, the lone sock peeking out from under the bed, and the phone currently buzzing like a maniac as it sent notifications for every text message it had received over the past two months. It had been sitting on the corner of the nightstand, dead, and apparently, a lot of people had wanted to talk to Gerard. With one final buzz, the device fell silent.

Frank took it into his hand and keyed in the passcode **'I <3fr@nk’** with shaking hands, tears stinging his eyes as he saw the wallpaper picture, one of the couple on their wedding day. He opened the message app and saw that most of the texts were from an unknown number.

11/3/15, 11:36am ( _The day after,_ Frank realized.)

**Hey, Gerard, just checking in. Hangover too bad?**

_Hangover?_  Frank wondered. Clearly, there was something he didn't know about that awful night.

11/3/15, 3:32pm

**Gerard, are you okay? Just trying to check in.**

11/7/15, 2:11pm

**Gerard, I know I'm probably being ridiculous, but please answer me. I'm getting worried, man.**

The messages continued in a similar fashion for a long time, right up until yesterday's date.

1/6/16, 4:52pm

**Gerard? You haven't answered me in months, so I'm guessing you just don't want to talk to me. I tried to catch up, but oh well.**

_Who_ is _this?_   Frank wondered. He pulled up the voicemails in the hope that they would hold an answer. He selected the first one, which had been left shortly after the initial text message.

11/3/16, 11:43am

_**Hey, Gerard. It's Bert**_.

_Bert? Ohhhh. Bert McCracken. What the fuck was that addict doing with my husband?_

_**I'm probably just being over-worried here, but I just wanted to check in after last night. You said you hadn't gotten drunk in a while, so I hope your hangover isn't too bad. Anyway, call me back.** _

11/12/15, 1:24pm

_**Hi, Gerard. Bert again. You haven't called me back yet, so I'm kind of worried. I hope you're not mad at me for taking you to the bar. Probably wasn't the best place to meet up, considering our histories. Call me back.** _

11/17/15, 6:59pm

_**It's been two weeks, Gerard. You still haven't called me back. I know you're probably just busy, but I'm worried. I stopped by your house, but no one was home. Did you get a new number or something? Please call back.** _

On and on they went, up until about a week before today. From what Frank had pieced together, the night if the incident, Bert had invited Gerard out to a bar. Gerard had then gotten quite drunk, and obviously had not been able to call Bert back. Frank had vaguely known Bert, of course, they had had plenty of mutual friends, but the two had never really interacted due to Bert's drug addiction. He didn't have a strong desire to talk to him, but if anyone had answers about what had happened that night, Frank knew that it would be Bert. He dialed the number and put the phone to his ear, waiting.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Bert McCracken?” Frank's voice was surprisingly collected, and he took a deep breath to maintain it.

“Uh, yes. Who is this?” Bert sounded quite confused, which Frank supposed was understandable.

“I'm Frank, Gerard's husband.”

“Oh! Frank! Gerard told me a lot about you. So, uh, why are you calling, exactly?”

“I want to know what happened back in November, that's all.”

“November? Didn't Gerard tell you? I called him and asked if he wanted to hang out, so we went to the bar and got a little drunk.”

_I was right._ “Well, no, Gerard didn't tell me.” Frank closed his eyes and focused on his breathing for a moment.

“Why not? Is he alright?” Bert sounded genuinely concerned.

“Uh, not exactly. He, he was in a, uh, a coma. Until this morning.”

“A coma? But, how? I mean, sure, he was drunk, but not that drunk.”

“Gerard has social anxiety,” explained Frank. “He was on Klonopin, which has pretty bad results when it gets mixed with alcohol, especially....especially when there's too much of both.”

“Shit, Frank, I had no idea. I'm so sorry, God, if I had known, I never would have-”

“It's alright. I don't blame you. It's just. . . .did Gerard seem, I don't know, depressed or anything? Because with the overdose on Klonopin, I just don't know if. . .” Frank trailed off, his throat tightening over the painful words and sealing them inside.

“If it was intentional,” Bert finished quietly. “I'm not 100% sure, but I don't think it was. You should've heard him when I was driving him home. He was just going on and on about you and how much he loved you. I don't think that he ever would've tried to leave you on purpose.”

“Oh. Thanks, Bert. I just. . .I didn't know, you know?”

“Yeah. So, uh, you said Gerard woke up today. How is he?”

Frank leaned back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling helplessly. “He has amnesia. The doctor doesn't know if it's permanent or not, but he's pretty sure that Gerard will never remember anything from this past decade.”

“God, Frank, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too. But don't blame yourself, Bert. This wasn't your fault. No one knew that Gerard was overdosing.”

“I know, _still_. . .I just should've invited him somewhere other than a bar, that was such a stupid idea.”

“No, Bert,” Frank said firmly. “This wasn't your fault. You had no way of knowing, and you were just trying to catch up with an old friend.”

“Thanks for understanding, Frank. God, amnesia,” Bert's voice was thick, choked up. “I think I'm gonna hang up now, take this in, you know? But, uh, I can bring over a casserole or something tonight if you want. I, um, I know what you're going through, and you need to eat, even if you don't want to.”

“Uh, yeah, okay. Yeah. Come over. I don't think I can be here alone that much longer. Do you have the address?”

“Yeah, Gerard gave it to me. . that day.”

“Okay. Um, bye.”

“Bye.” Both men hung up, and Frank couldn't help the rush of relief that surged through him. It hadn't been a suicide attempt. Well, it _might've_ been, but Bert had said that it didn't seem like it. And Frank agreed; Gerard hadn't been acting depressed. It didn't really help the pain, though. A silver lining couldn't brighten up a stormy sky.


	6. A Lesson In Faith

_“It's so hard to motivate,_

_Me to devote a,_

_Single inch of me to,_

_Something I can't see,”_

_~Be Concerned by Twenty-One Pilots_

 

“So. . . what's in this again?”

“Just cheese, spinach, tomatoes, and zucchini. I vaguely remembered something about Gerard saying you were vegetarian, or at least, I think I did, so I decided better safe than sorry, right?” Bert said, cutting the casserole he had brought over into messy rectangles and scooping two of them onto plates that Frank had provided.

“Uh, yeah, I am vegetarian, so thanks a lot,” Frank said gratefully. “And thanks for coming over too, I really appreciate the company.”

Bert gave him a small smile as they sat down at the table. “No problem. Gerard's my friend, and I know what it's like to go through something like this.”

Frank looked over at him, trying to hide his curiosity. It obviously didn't work, because Bert said, “It was my boyfriend Jeph. Two years ago. Drug overdose. That's why I stopped.”

“God, Bert, I'm so sorry.”

The other man shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “He knew what he was getting into. I'm just thankful that I got out in time.”

“Mmhmm.” Frank took a small bite of casserole, chewing it slowly. Normally, the meal was something that he would have enjoyed. But under the circumstances, it was hard to taste anything other than dry cardboard in his mouth. He put his fork down and placed his head in his hands, staring blankly down at the intricate wood grain of the table.

“Is it bad?” Bert asked, concerned. “I'm sorry if it tastes shitty, I've never really been a good cook.”

“No, it's good,” Frank mumbled. “I'm just not that hungry.”

“That's okay. But you should try and eat something. I mean, I can tell just from looking at you that it's been awhile since you had some real, homemade food.”

“Yeah, it has- I've been living on crappy hospital food for the past two months.” Frank sighed and picked up his fork again, spearing a small bite of casserole. Once he was finished chewing, he looked over at Bert. “You really didn't have to do this, you know.”

Bert shook his head. “No, it's alright. This whole mess is partially my fault. Helping you out is the least I can do.”

The pair fell into a silence, one that was neither awkward nor content, one that just was. Frank tried to focus on anything but his husband, but what else could he really think about? Amnesia. Fucking _amnesia._ Everything that they'd shared gone. Vanished. Without a trace. In the blink of an eye, Frank and Gerard had gone from two people so closely intertwined to strangers. _It would almost be better if I had amnesia too,_ Frank reasoned. Then there wouldn't be all of the memories that he still held, all of the things he still knew, that hung in the air between him and Gerard. There would just be a blank slate, a place for their love to start over and become something even more beautiful and stronger than before. This thought, of course, only raised another question in Frank's overloaded mind: _could Gerard ever fall in love with me again?_  

* * *

“Again, thank you so much for everything, Bert,” Frank said as he walked him to the door. “I can't tell you how grateful I am for your company.”

“You're welcome, Frank. I hope Gerard gets better, and if you need anything else, please don't hesitate to give me a call.”

“Will do.” The door closed behind Bert and Frank was left alone. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was already 10pm. Normally Frank stayed up late watching TV, but that night, he was just plain exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He dragged himself up the stairs but stopped at the closed bedroom door. Everything about the room in front of him held fragments of Gerard, bits and pieces of what they had shared. Frank knew that he wouldn't be able to sleep surrounded by all of the memories, so he wearily trudged back downstairs and collapsed onto the couch, eyes falling shut almost as soon as his head hit the small pillow.

Unfortunately, he didn't sleep for long, an abstract nightmare jerking him awake around two am. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, the rapidly returning alertness of his senses telling him that he wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon. Frank rolled from his side onto his back, staring vacantly at the unblemished white surface of the ceiling. He breathed in deeply and slowly, trying to calm his racing thoughts. So much had happened in the past day. He'd known that life probably wasn't going to be all that great tonight, but the cruel twist fate had taken had caught him off guard. It was like preparing for an earthquake and getting a fucking tornado raging outside of your house instead. Frank's stable life had been blown away that November night, the one that now seemed light years away, rather than a few short months. Today's events had just been the destruction of every remaining piece.

Frank let out a long breath and closed his eyes. What had he done to deserve this? What had Gerard done? A memory suddenly popped into his head, slightly blurred by exhaustion but still there. He had prayed. What if that was why Gerard was alive at all? Had, dare Frank say it, God been the one to save Gerard? Well, that was certainly something to think about. Frank hadn't had much in the way of faith since sixth grade, when the idea of some great man up in the sky frolicking around with angels and raising people from the dead just stopped seeming believable. But what if it really had been God who brought Gerard back?

The entire thing was making Frank's head hurt, if he was honest, so he mentally resolved to figure it out later, when he wasn't so damn tired. With even more questions swirling in his head, Frank closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep again. Somehow, he did, and when he opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the closed blinds.

Frank sighed and sat up. At first, there was a glorious moment when he didn’t remember why he was sleeping on the couch and not the hard plastic chair in Gerard’s hospital room. Then it all came rushing back, a bullet of recollections, and it took nearly all of Frank’s effort to haul himself off of the couch.

* * *

To be entirely honest, Frank wasn’t completely sure what had caused him to be sitting on the hard wooden pew in King Bethesda Catholic Church a few hours later. A desire for answers, perhaps, or maybe just something to do other than sit around his too-empty house and overthink all of the week’s events.

After recalling his two am pondering, Frank had done a quick Google search for local churches. He’d found out that King Bethesda was not only just five minutes from his house, but they held open services on Fridays at 7pm. And since his only other plan was to wallow despondently in his misery for the rest of the evening, Frank had pulled on a wrinkled button-down shirt and gone.

He, of course, had headed straight for the hospital at 10:45am, making sure that he would be there as soon as visiting hours began. Unfortunately, Gerard was asleep when he arrived, and it didn’t look he would be waking up anytime soon. Frank had wanted to stay longer, but Dr. Urie had assured him that Gerard was okay. When Frank still resisted, Dr. Urie had sternly reminded him that he had a life too, and that Gerard probably would be better off without the stress of seeing Frank but not knowing him. The second point was a little harsh to Frank, but he accepted that Dr. Urie was right and went back home.

And now he was shifting uncomfortably on the unyielding wood of the pew, wondering why the church chose to invest in tiny jeweled crosses everywhere instead of some cushions. The pastor was up front, speaking about the constant presence of God. Frank had been paying attention at the beginning, but even though the man wasn’t really boring or anything, well, that had been an hour ago, and his mind had (inevitably) wandered. His plan was to try and speak to the pastor about Gerard personally after the service, he just hadn’t realized just how long the damn thing would last. But he wasn’t going to get up and leave; he would stick it out.

“Let’s rise and sing, everyone, and proclaim our love for our God,” intoned the pastor passionately. “If you would like to follow along in your hymn books, we will be singing Amazing Grace, page 24.”

Frank found himself getting to his feet, following the example of everyone else in the room. He didn’t pick up the book sitting in the pouch in front of him: he had no desire whatsoever to sing. From the left of the altar, the soft sound of organ music began to rise, and the majority of the congregation began singing the familiar words. Frank stuck with his decision not to sing, but he couldn’t help closing his eyes as the notes washed over him peacefully. He knew it was kinda cheesy, but he had to wonder if Gerard had been given some of God’s grace when he woke up. But then again, what kind of God would give such a good person amnesia?

Frank shook his head a bit, tired of chasing the same thoughts in the same circles. The song came to a close, and the pastor led the group in a brief prayer before ending the service. _Finally,_ Frank couldn’t help thinking.

Once most of the throng had filed out of the carved wooden doors, he slowly made his way towards the altar, where the pastor was shuffling some loose papers and notes into a neat stack. “Excuse me,” Frank said quietly, feeling extremely awkward. “I, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. I know I’m not a usual attender here, but I just thought…” He trailed off, hoping the pastor understood and wouldn’t shun him for not being a devout follower of Christ. (Okay, maybe that was a little far, but, hey, it wasn’t like Frank knew much of anything about religious practices.)

“Of course, son,” replied the pastor kindly. “I’m Pastor Toro, by the way.”

“Uh, Frank Iero-Way,” he supplied, holding out a hand for the pastor to shake and hoping he wasn’t being judged for his tattoos.

Pastor Toro shook it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Frank. So, what brings you here today?”

Frank rubbed the back of his neck unconsciously, a little unsure as to how he should introduce Gerard. If Pastor Toro was homophobic, that would really suck. He figured that lying to a pastor (in a church, no less) was probably a pretty bad idea, though, especially considering that he was already gay. “Well, it’s, uh, it’s my husband.”

Thankfully, Pastor Toro didn’t, like, flip out and splash him with holy water or anything. He just blinked slowly, once, twice, and then nodded. “Okay, that’s alright, Frank. God forgives all sin, you know. But let’s not dwell on that. What happened to your husband?”

Extremely relieved, Frank took a deep breath. “Well, he has anxiety, see. So he was on Klonopin, but without me noticing, he started overdosing. Nothing bad enough to draw attention to happened until November. He, uh, went out with an old friend and got drunk, and the alcohol didn’t mix well with the Klonopin. He ended up in a coma.”

Pastor Toro nodded again. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Frank. I think that this conversation might take a few minutes, why don’t we sit down?” He pulled over two chairs that were up by the altar for whatever reason, arranging them so they were facing before taking a seat in one.

Frank took the other and continued his story. “So, he’s in a coma. I’m spending every possible minute in the hospital with him, you know? He doesn’t seem to be getting any closer to waking up for months, and then suddenly, it’s January. His doctor is telling me and his brother that we need to start talking about pulling the plug.” Frank couldn’t stop the tears rising to his eyes as he spoke, wiping them hastily. Pastor Toro just kept listening, gaze intent and concerned. “So, his brother sets a date, for this just past Thursday. As in, like, yesterday. And that gives me less than a week. Well, Wednesday night, I didn’t sleep at all. I was just talking to him all night, just begging for him to wake up. And I even prayed a bit.

“That was kinda weird for me to do, because I’ve never been a religious guy. When I was a kid, yeah, my family would dress up and go on Easter and Christmas Eve,’cause, like, that’s the right thing to do and stuff. But when I hit my ‘rebellious teenager’ phase, I quit going, and just never went back. But I was desperate to save him, y’know? So I prayed.” Frank dropped his gaze to where his hands were folded in his lap.

“And?” Pastor Toro prompted gently.

“And he woke up,” Frank said, the words slipping shakily past his lips. “He woke up yesterday morning, like, right before we were supposed to, you know, do it.”

The pastor nodded, bushy hair bouncing slightly with the movement. “That’s very good, but I’m sensing there’s something else.”

“Uh, yeah.” Frank’s voice was quiet again. “He woke up, but now he has amnesia. The doctor doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to remember anything more recent than ten years ago.”

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Frank." Pastor Toro murmured sincerely. "So, I'm going to assume that you don't know what to think right now regarding God."

"Exactly," said Frank. "I mean, I do believe that He exists. I just don't know if it was Him that helped Gerard wake up, and if it was, why didn't He completely heal Gerard? Why did He leave him with amnesia?"

"Those are tough questions, and this is certainly a tough time. I'd like to think that yes, it was the good Lord that saved your husband. And while I know that this is something that you've probably heard a million times before, God works in mysterious ways. Perhaps this amnesia is part of His greater plan for you and Gerard," Pastor Toro offered.

"Maybe," Frank allowed. "I just. . .I don't know what to think. I'm grateful as hel- I mean, heck, that Gerard is awake and alive. And if that was God's work, I'm grateful to Him, even if He left Gerard with amnesia. I just wish I knew for sure, you know? And why, too." He gave a short, rueful chuckle. "I really hate not knowing things."

The pastor thought for a moment before replying. "Many believers I know also struggle with similar issues. I think it can be the hardest part of having faith in God, or any sort of deity, for that matter. There's never really certainty of anything, and we have to choose what we're willing to believe and follow. It's even harder to do that when we don't have all of the answers, or when there's something negative making us wonder why we should have faith at all.

"Unfortunately, nothing about this is easy. In fact, very little about faith is. And I'm not going to be able to answer all of your questions. But I'm very glad you made the decision to come in and talk today. And I think that if your heart was really in your prayer the other night, then it was God who saved your husband. And as painful, hard, and confusing as this amnesia is and will most likely be, if God has willed it, then it must be part of His plan. And while I know it's near impossible to see any good ever coming of this situation, don't lose hope. You and Gerard will certainly be in my prayers, Frank."

Frank's eyes were wet again. Pastor Toro was right, nothing about this was easy."Thank you so much, Pastor. I think. . .I might think about this a little more tonight. Things are still kind of rough right now, you know?"

Pastor Toro smiled sadly. " I'm glad to be of assistance. You're welcome to stop by anytime; I'm almost always in the church." He rose from his chair, and Frank followed suit. "I hope to see you again, Frank, and hopefully under better circumstances."

"Well, I'll be sure to come by again, then," Frank said. "Thanks again."

Pastor Toro nodded in acknowledgment of the sentiment, and then Frank turned and slowly walked back towards the doors of the church, mind still whirling, but in more of a controlled breeze than the full-scale tornado it had been. "I really do hope that your husband gets better," the pastor called unexpectedly when Frank's hand grasped the door handle.

Frank turned back towards him briefly. "Me too," he replied softly before exiting the church.

As he drove home, his headlights reflecting on the damp pavement ( _I guess it rained while I was in there,_ he concluded), Frank let his thoughts roam free. Maybe Pastor Toro had been right, and Gerard's condition was all part of a greater plan. Of course, that didn't make it hurt any less to hear Gerard's words replaying in his head: _Wait, who are you again?_

And while Frank was definitely not about to start praying every night and heading to church on Sundays, he had to glance up at the dark, cloudy sky, and mutter a quiet, "Is this your idea of helping? I mean, thanks for saving him. Seriously, thank you. I just wish you had completely saved him, you know? I know that makes me sound like a greedy asshole, but..."

Frank's fingers tightened around the steering wheel as a lump began to form in his throat for what felt like the millionth time that week. "I just want him back, God. I JUST WANT HIM BACK!" Tears were beginning to blur his vision, so Frank made the wise choice of pulling his car over to the side of the road and putting it in park before leaning his head against the steering wheel and letting himself break down. Again. Fuck, he'd only seen Gerard once after he'd woken up and he was acting like this.

Would Frank be able to handle spending time with his husband when every second spent together would only remind him of what he'd lost? At this point, Frank wasn't entirely sure whether he'd prefer his current situation or the one he'd expected, with Gerard completely gone and on his way to a cemetery. True, there was a glimmer of hope now, but Frank couldn't quite decide if its tantalizing glint was encouraging or just plain cruel.


	7. I Still Am

_“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” -Pablo Neruda_

“He’s awake, if you want to see him,” Dr. Urie informed Frank when he stepped out of Gerard’s hospital room. “I was able to work with him and Mikey a bit yesterday afternoon, and it’s astounding. It wasn’t easy, but he was able to recall some of his childhood memories and the like. It’s not much, but it’s progress I wasn’t expecting to see for weeks, if it all.”

“Oh my God, that’s amazing.” Frank smiled, and it was probably his first real smile in months. True, he couldn’t help the pang in his heart when Dr. Urie didn’t mention anything about Gerard remembering _him,_ but still. Progress was progress. “Gee is definitely a resilient person. So, I can go see him?”

Dr. Urie nodded. “Yes. But don’t push anything, okay? If you need anything, you know where the call button is. Unless you want me to come in with you?”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Frank went to open the door when the doctor’s hand came to rest on his arm.

“Frank, it’s wonderful to see how much you care about Gerard, but...don’t get your hopes up too high for anything, okay? I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I understand, Doctor. I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you. And, really, we’ve spent the past couple of months together- you can just call me Brendon.”

“Okay...Brendon.”

Dr. Urie gave Frank a small smile before walking off down the hall, presumably to take care of more patients. Frank turned the handle of the door and stepped inside slowly, almost nervously. “Gerard?” he called softly.

Gerard looked up from where he was intently sketching something on a loose piece of paper. “Uh, hi. It’s, um, Frank, right?”

“Yeah. Is it okay if I come in for a bit?”

“Sure, I, um, I guess.” Gerard wouldn’t meet his eyes, even from across the room, and it hurt. But at least he’d agreed to spend time with Frank.

Frank walked over to the chair he’d practically lived in for months and sat down next to Gerard’s bed. “So, uh, how have you been?”

Gerard shrugged. He was clearly feeling awkward, which was understandable. He didn’t know Frank at all anymore, but Frank obviously knew him very well. “Okay. Sleeping, mostly.” He looked down at his paper again and added a few more lines. Frank couldn’t quite make out what he was drawing, but it looked vaguely like a person. When Gerard saw Frank looking over curiously, he pulled the paper slightly to his chest self-consciously before explaining, “Dr. Urie suggested that I draw pictures if I remember anything, so….”

“That’s cool,” Frank replied. It hurt to see Gerard hiding his work. Normally, Frank was the first person he showed sketches and any other pieces of art.

Gerard didn’t reply, he just added a couple more quick lines before placing it face-down on the bedside table. “Sorry if, um, I’m, like, awkward or anything. Uh, the doctor says I have social anxiety. Normally, I’d be, uh, on my medication, but Dr. Urie doesn’t, uh, think that’s a good idea yet.”

“I know,” Frank said quietly.

Gerard looked confused briefly before he realized. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. So, um, we’re married?”

Frank’s fingers unconsciously went to twist the ring on his left hand. “Yeah. Since September.” His voice hitched a little when he realized that their six-month anniversary was just over a month away.

“Oh.” Gerard’s eyes watched Frank’s fingers rub the smooth metal and looked down at his own left hand, where a matching ring was wrapped around his ring finger. He brushed across it gently, one pale finger tracing the metal delicately, almost as if he was afraid to touch it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I, uh, wish I could remember, really, I do. Dr. Urie told me how you stayed here for nearly two months straight. I hate that I can’t, um, can’t remember you.”

Frank’s fingers stilled on his ring, gripping his own hand for security. “I hate it too,” he whispered. “Gee. . .”

“I, uh, I- can I ask you something?” Gerard cut in suddenly, like something had just occurred to him.

“Of course, anything,” was Frank’s immediate reply.

“Did I..um, did I do this on purpose?” he asked hesitantly. “The doctor told me all about the Klonopin overdosing and the getting drunk, I just. . .was I trying to…?”

Frank sighed softly. “I don’t think so. You probably don’t know who I’m talking about, but I found out two days ago that you went out to a local bar with an old friend, Bert McCracken, that night. He didn’t know about the Klonopin, and you got drunk. He said it didn’t seem like you were trying to, you know.”

“Oh.” Gerard was silent for several long moments. “That’s good, then.”

“Yeah.” The room was quiet, the tension painfully thick. “So, you really don’t remember me at all?” Frank knew the answer, but he couldn’t help asking despite himself.

“No.” Gerard’s gaze was back in his lap, hazel eyes trained on the white sheets. “I’m sorry.”

Frank closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath in. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

There was another long pause in the conversation before Gerard spoke again. “How did we meet?” he asked quietly.

Frank couldn’t help but smile a bit at the memory, even though it hurt like hell to know that Gerard no longer shared the moment in his mind. “It was at a friend’s party, senior year. You were avoiding everyone and hiding in the corner. I thought you were hot, and I was drunk, so I went over and tried to flirt with you...but I kinda puked on you instead. You still managed to slip me your number, though.”

“That’s. . .odd.” Gerard sounded vaguely distant, trying to pull the memory back from the black abyss in his mind.

“Yeah,” Frank said quietly, caught up in the fond memories. There was just so much that he and Gerard had shared, so many little moments they had used to be able to treasure. “We, uh, we started dating about a week after that. Last May, on our fourth anniversary of dating, you took me out to Ivre L’Amour, a really fancy restaurant downtown. After dinner, I proposed.” Frank had figured that he would spend a bit of time of his life reminiscing about these golden times with Gerard, but he never once had imagined that he would be telling the story to his husband for what was kind of like the first time, for Gerard, at least.

Gerard didn’t speak for several minutes. When his voice escaped into the room once more, it almost sounded like he was struggling to push the words out. “God, Frank, I. . .I wish I could remember. Mikey came in for a few yesterday, and there were a couple of vague things I remembered about him- the beach, Star Wars, pillow forts. But nothing more than that. And Dr. Urie doesn’t think that I’ll ever be able to remember you. And-” He broke off with a shuddering gasp, and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears when he continued. “And I hate that so much. I mean, if I married you, you must be important. I just wish I could fucking remember.”

Frank tentatively reached out to take Gerard’s hand in a comforting gesture. Gerard let him, and Frank squeezed his husband’s cool hand gently before replying, “I do too. But don’t push it, okay? It’ll come back eventually. It has to.”

“Do you- do you have a picture? Of us?” Gerard asked. “I don’t know if it would, but, like, maybe it could help me remember. I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“Oh, good thinking. I should have one on my phone somewhere,” Frank answered, already entering his boring four digit passcode. “Uh…” He opened his gallery and scrolled through the images rapidly, searching for something other than cat memes. Finally, he spotted the wedding day photos. The first one he found was of their kiss at the altar, when Gerard had wanted to take things a little farther than a chaste press of lips but had been stopped by Frank’s half-hearted murmur of, “Gee! There are kids here!”

Before he could start crying or anything, Frank held the phone out to Gerard so he could look at the picture. Gerard took the device and studied the screen carefully. He didn't say anything, just let his eyes scan the pixels as he slowly took it in. Frank watched him carefully, but saw no signs of recognition on Gerard's face. “That's from our wedding,” Frank told him, even though that was fairly obvious. “There are more if you scroll left.”

“Okay.” Gerard swiped his thumb across the screen while Frank looked on from the side. The next few pictures were of the two of them at the altar- saying their vows, smiling at each other, Frank slipping the ring into Gerard's finger. Gerard looked at each one carefully before moving on. After a couple more shots of the couple dancing at the reception and other moments, Gerard handed the phone back to Frank. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I thought that that might help, but…”

“It's okay,” Frank reassured him as he slipped the phone back into his jeans pocket, though he couldn't ignore the heavy weight of disappointment in the pit of his stomach.

“I….” Gerard paused briefly, attempting to find the right words. “We looked... happy. Like we were…..in love.”

Frank's heart panged. “We were,” he said quietly. “I still am.” His second sentence was barely even a whisper, but Gerard heard.

He looked over at Frank, apology written all across his face. “Frank, I wish I could say the same, it's just…”

“I understand. Don't worry about it. It'll be okay.”

Gerard felt awful, especially seeing the heartbroken expression on Frank's downcast face. “I-”

“Don't worry about it, Gee, seriously,” Frank cut in. “I, uh, I think I should go. I'll be back soon, though. This is just…. it's hard, y’know?”

Gerard knew that protesting would probably be the expectation in his current situation, but he simply nodded. “Okay.”

Blinking furiously, Frank rose from his seat and left the room, closing the door behind himself and holding back yet another set of tears.

Back in the room, Gerard looked at the ring on his finger again. It felt really weird to be wearing a symbol of marriage when he didn't even remember the relationship. He wasn't really sure how to feel about Frank, if he was honest. Like, he seemed nice and well-meaning, but Gerard couldn't remember him at all. It was really irritating- true, the recollections were vague, but he knew that in fairy tales, love was always able to conquer anything. But (assuming that it did exist between him and Frank) it certainly hadn’t done anything for Gerard.

He was confused and tired and extremely frustrated with his defective memory. Before he drifted off to sleep, he slid the ring off of his finger and rested it on the bedside table. It was a confusion he didn't really want to deal with for the time being.


	8. Blank Slate

_“Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.” -Paulo Coelho_

True to his word, Frank returned to the hospital two days later. He’d wanted to go the very next day but had figured that Gerard would need a bit of space. He arrived at the hospital at around one pm, but Gerard was asleep when he knocked gently and walked into the room. Frank considered leaving and returning tomorrow, but ultimately decided against it. He still loved his husband and wanted to see him as much as possible without causing Gerard any harm or worry.

So he took a seat in the familiar chair and watched Gerard sleep, hoping that he wouldn’t come across as creepy when the other man woke up. He shoved his cold hands deep into the pocket of the black sweatshirt he was wearing, fingers brushing the edges of the photographs he had brought for Gerard to look at in the hopes that he would remember something. Thankfully, Frank wasn’t left feeling like a bit of a creep for too long, as Gerard’s eyes fluttered open a couple of minutes later.

He blinked sleepily before his gaze landed on Frank, who was watching him with soft eyes. “Uh, hi,” Gerard mumbled.

“Hey,” replied Frank quietly. “How are you doing?”

“Okay. Sorry if, uh, you know, I was keeping you waiting or anything. You can just wake me up next time, um, if you want.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Is it alright if I stay for a bit or would you rather that I leave?”

“You can stay,” Gerard answered. “I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Where are my parents? I was thinking about how Mikey’s my brother and stuff when I realized that I could sort of remember my mom and dad. That’s what I was drawing when you came by the other day, actually- my dad. But why aren’t they here?” Gerard’s tone betrayed the fact that he already strongly suspected the answer Frank was about to give, but he kept his face hopeful.

“They, uh, they passed away three years ago. It was a car accident.” Frank hated telling him, the words bringing back the awful memories of the incident and how broken Gerard had been.

“Oh.” The lone word was hushed and barely audible. “I can only remember when they were alive,” Gerard continued after a moment, “not much, just little things, like Mom singing You Are My Sunshine and Dad playing chess with me. Stuff like that.” He fell silent again before adding one last thing to his statement. “I was wondering why they weren’t here. I thought...I thought that they might not care.”

“Oh, Gee….” Frank can’t resist taking his hand again. “They loved you so much. If they were still here, they would’ve been the first ones here to see you.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Gerard murmured. “I knew that probably wasn’t it, I was just worried.”

“I understand. Hey, I, uh, I brought some other pictures with me today, if you want to look at them. It’s cool if you don’t, it’s just...they’re a little older, from our senior year, and I thought that might help a little.”

“Um, sure, I can look at them,” Gerard agreed.

Frank pulled the small stack of pictures from his sweatshirt pocket, slid the rubber band off, and passed the photos to his husband. Gerard took them and looked down at the first one carefully.

It was one that Jamia had secretly taken at another one of her parties, after Frank and Gerard had started dating. The shot was of the two teenagers laughing, Gerard’s arm slung lazily around Frank and cigarettes sticking out of both of their mouths, the smoke clouding just slightly over their faces. It was a candid moment of the dirty, drunken happiness of love at a high school party, and one of Frank’s personal favorites of the couple.

Gerard studied it for a minute before flipping to the next one, a grainy image of Frank flipping the unknown photographer off while he kissed Gerard in someone’s basement. His finger was painted with chipped black nail polish, the color almost fading into the dark background but his pale finger standing out boldly.Gerard’s hands were busy winding around the back of Frank’s neck as he leaned down to reach the shorter teen’s lips.

The photo after that was one of Gerard’s old favorites, and Frank found himself holding his breath slightly, hoping that it might trigger some memory in Gerard’s brain. It was a picture of the pair after one of their many paint wars, and both teens were sodden with the bright colors of Gerard’s acrylics. They were lying on the Way’s lawn, stained limbs an unidentifiable tangle against the green grass and clothes splashed with every hue known to man. The sun was shining down brightly from overhead, illuminating the equally pale faces of Gerard and Frank. Even with the poor quality of the picture, it was still possible to see the few spots where the paint was still drying, the glistening its only betrayal. Frank’s head was resting against Gerard’s shoulder, and Gerard was curled into the contact, his black hair a greasy, tangled mess and spotted with flecks of blue. If Frank remembered correctly, it had been Lindsey behind the camera that day, as she and Jamia had also participated in the carefree battle of color.

“You, um, you used to love that one,” Frank couldn’t help saying. “You wanted to get a copy of it for our room, and we were going to, before…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that, like, that was your favorite. Sorry.”

Gerard looked back at the picture, eyes having traveled to Frank when he spoke. “It’s a nice picture. I just….I don’t remember it. It’s almost like...I don’t know. It’s kind of surreal, seeing what looks like a stranger doing something unfamiliar and being told that it’s me, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Frank replied, and the two fell into silence once more. Gerard looked through the rest of the pictures in silence, the rest generic scenes of high school love with just a few more rough edges than most, hidden in the empty bottles and cigarette butts. When he had cycled back to the first picture again, Gerard handed the photos back.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Frank.”

“It’s okay,” Frank answered as he shoved the stack back into his pocket. It wasn’t, though. There was nothing okay about the fact that each and every snapshot of their romance was now unfamiliar to Gerard. There was nothing okay about the fact that the organized math of their life together was now missing half of the equation. There was nothing okay whatsoever about the current situation, but Frank wasn’t going to admit it. Saying it just made it all the more true.

Gerard knew he was lying, though, and boldly voiced the truth. “No, it’s not. I know it’s not.”

Hearing it sent it home, and Frank swallowed hard. “It really isn’t,” he agreed softly. “But there’s nothing we can do. We’ll just have to….wait this out. Whatever it takes.”

“Right,” said Gerard, and maybe Frank would’ve been able to keep practicing that suspended disbelief thing his English teacher had once taught him if Gerard hadn’t continued speaking a moment later. “But, Frank….we should be realistic here. Dr. Urie doesn’t think that I’ll ever remember this past decade.”

“I know. I just….I don’t want to think about that. I have to keep telling myself that you’ll be okay, and that you’ll remember it all someday. It’s the only way I can get out of bed every day,” he confided.

Gerard may not have had the bond he’d used to have with Frank, but he could still clearly read the pain on the other man’s face. “Frank, I….I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Frank said, the sound muffled by the hands he had just buried his face in. “I’m sorry too.” His voice was thick, sounding like he was choking back a sob. The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound Frank’s unsteady breaths.

After a second, Gerard had an idea. Tentatively, he reached out and placed a gentle hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered. “I might have an idea.”

Frank looked up, and his eyes were red. “What is it?” he asked, fighting to get his voice and breathing back under control.

Gerard removed his hand from Frank’s shoulder and held it out in front of him. “Hi, I’m Gerard Way.”

Confused, Frank just stared at his hand, trying not to focus on the way Iero had been dropped from the last name. “I know you’re Gerard.”

The other man shook his head. “Just go with it, okay? I’m Gerard, what’s your name?” He wiggled his extended right hand a little, drawing attention to it.

Frank hesitantly took it in his, shaking it slowly. “I’m Frank.”

Gerard gave him a small, nervous smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Frank.” “

But we’ve already met,” Frank protested, utterly baffled. “I’ve known you for years, Gerard.”

Gerard shook his head again. “I know, but let’s just...start over, okay? Let me get to know you again.”

“Uh, okay, I guess. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you too, Gerard.”

Gerard smiled for real that time. “So, Frank, tell me a little bit about yourself.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know….what’s your favorite color?”

“Black for sure,” Frank replied, feeling himself sinking into Gerard’s little game.

“Ooh, good choice,” said Gerard. Frank could see him fighting the little tics of his anxiety, and it sent a spike of endearment to his heart. “What about your favorite...animal?”

“Dogs. I love dogs,” Frank answered with a hint of a smile.

“I can definitely see you being a dog person,” Gerard mused. “Okay, what do you do for a living?”

“I work at a music shop downtown.”

“Neat! Music is fucking awesome. What kind of genres are you into?”

Frank pondered the question briefly. “Rock, mostly. Post-hardcore and stuff. Screamo. That sort of thing.”

Gerard grinned again, and the sight warmed Frank’s slightly more genuine smile. “Good music taste, then. I used to listen to…” He paused for a moment, and Frank knew he was struggling to remember the details. “Misfits,” he finally finished. “Um, Misfits, and Smashing Pumpkins, and Iron Maiden.”

“Awesome,” Frank replied, trying to act like he didn’t already know that. “Gotta love Black Flag, too.”

“Definitely,” Gerard enthused. Frank knew that he had practically been raised on his favorite bands, which probably explained why he remembered them so clearly. “Y’know, Frank, I think we might get along pretty well.”

“I think so too,” Frank said, voice shaking only a tiny bit.

The rest of his visit was spent in the same way, answering Gerard’s simple inquiries as if the pair had really just met. And maybe it hurt a little at first, having to answer the questions that Frank knew Gerard had known for years, but the pain gradually softened. It almost felt like the two were just playing some dumb game. Before either one noticed, it was five o’clock, and visiting hours were over. Frank rose from his seat with an apologetic farewell and walked towards the door when he noticed the clock, not wanting Brendon to have to kick him out.

When he turned to wave goodbye, he pretended not to notice the absence of Gerard’s wedding ring or the dagger the observation drove into his heart. That night, as Frank tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, his mind wandered back to Pastor Toro and what he had said about Gerard’s amnesia being part of God’s big plan. Frank wasn’t really sure if he believed that, but maybe it was true. Maybe Gerard’s idea to start their relationship anew would work out. Frank had no idea. He would be lying if he said that the future scared the hell out of him. But at least it now looked like he might have Gerard, even though it wasn’t in the way he’d expected. With that small comfort, Frank let himself drift off to sleep.


	9. Almost

_“Hard is trying to rebuild yourself, piece by piece, with no instruction book, and no clue as to where all the important bits are supposed to go.” -Nick Hornby_

When Frank returned to the hospital the day after the next, Pete and Mikey were already there with Gerard and Brendon. “Uh, hi,” Frank said as he hovered awkwardly in the doorway. “Am I interrupting?”

All four of the room’s occupants turned. Brendon shook his head. “Nope. Mikey and I are just working with Gerard a bit. We should be done in a few, and you two can have some alone time if you want. Okay?”

“Okay,” replied Frank as he walked into the room, leaning against the far wall next to Pete. “Hey, Pete.”

Pete gave him a small smile. “Hey, Frank. How are you doing?”

“As good as I can, I guess, considering. What about you and Mikey?”

Glancing at his boyfriend, Pete gave a little shrug. “Okay. He’s been pretty stressed about Gerard. We’re staying with one of my old friend’s friend’s, Patrick Stump.”

“Oh, I know Patrick, he works at the same music shop as me. He’s a good guy, helped convince my boss to let me off these past few months without firing me.”

“He is,” Pete agreed.

“So, how’s Gerard been today?” Frank asked.

“Pretty good.” Pete laughed a bit. “Mikey got him to remember Star Wars.”

Frank smiled. “He does love Star Wars. Anything more recent?”

“Unfortunately, no. He still doesn’t remember me, or anything past the age of ten, it seems,” Pete answered sadly.

Sighing, Frank ran a hand through his already messy hair. “God, I miss him so much.”

“I wish I could say I know how you feel,” Pete said regretfully. “But at least he’s making some progress, right? You never know what might happen.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just then, Brendon stood from the bed and walked over towards Pete and Frank. “So, he’s doing well,” he informed them. “A lot of his earlier memories are coming back quite well. I’m pretty confident that he’ll be able to recover his childhood almost completely. Unfortunately, I still highly doubt that anything within this past decade will come back to him.”

Frank nodded slowly, the update stirring a mixed bag of emotions in his gut. “Thanks so much, Brendon, for all that you’ve done.”

The doctor gave him a small, sad smile. “Just doing my job. Oh, and Gerard told me about what he’s trying with you, starting over. I think that it’s a good idea, provided it’s not taking too much of a toll on you, Frank.”

Frank shrugged a bit, trying to act like it wasn’t a huge deal. “I mean, it’s not the easiest thing to do, but it’s better than just constantly trying to make what seems to be impossible happen, you know?”

“I understand,” replied Brendon. “Just let me know if it gets to be too much, alright?”

“Okay,” Frank consented. “I will.”

Brendon turned to Pete. “Mikey’s just saying bye, then you’ll be able to be on your way. You know, you’ve been amazing for him. He needs you.”

Pete blushed a little bit. “Thanks, Brendon. That means a lot to me.”

Mikey walked over then, automatically clasping Pete’s hand in his. “Hey, Pete. Ready to go?” His voice was unsteady and a little thick, but he gave his boyfriend a shaky smile.

Pete smiled back at him reassuringly, squeezing Mikey's hand. “Sure, babe. Thanks again, Brendon.” He and Mikey made their way to the door, Mikey leaning against Pete for support.

Slowly, Frank walked over and sat down in the chair by Gerard’s bed, pulling it slightly closer to his husband as he did. “Hey. Uh, Brendon says you’re doing better.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe I forgot Star Wars, man. Freaking _Star Wars_.”

Frank chuckled a bit at that, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Star Wars is pretty epic.” He wasn’t quite sure if Gerard wanted to continue the little ‘just-met’ charade, so he stuck with a neutral response.

“It really is. Which episodes have you seen?”

_Continuing the charade, then_. “All of them,” Frank replied. “Multiple times.” It was true, he and Gerard had had many all-night Star Wars marathons, cheering for Luke and scoffing at Jar-Jar until the sun rose.

“Nice,” said Gerard. “Do you have a favorite?”

“That’s a tough one.. . .but I’d have to say The Empire Strikes Back.”

Gerard grinned. “My favorite’s Return of the Jedi. Empire Strikes Back is a close second, though.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Frank mock-whined. “Empire is obviously the best.” It was an argument he’d attempted to win countless times before, though Gerard usually went off on long rants about how amazing Return of the Jedi was until Frank surrendered just to make him shut up.

“Yeah, right,” Gerard snorted, shifting his position on the bed so he was sitting up a little straighter. “I mean, I barely remember it, but _Ewoks_ , Frank. What can possibly top Ewoks?”

“Hmm...what about the most famous scene in the entire series? You know, ‘I am your father?’ “

“But Ewoks. And the Sarlacc? That thing is awesome.”

“Kind of,” Frank relented. “I hate when it kills Boba Fett, though.”

“But Boba had to die,” Gerard argued. “And Return of the Jedi is the best and I will continue to prove it once I completely remember it again.” The stubborn set of Gerard’s jaw was adorable to Frank, and he couldn’t help but let a wide smile overtake his face.

“Okay,” he relented. “Temporary truce, then. But next time I visit, I’m bringing the original trilogy, and we’ll watch it all together.”

“I can’t wait,” Gerard said sincerely. “I mean, watching anything other than daytime soap operas would be great on its own.”

Frank laughed at that. “Soap operas, huh?”

Gerard nodded grimly. “Yeah. They’re the only thing on TV here. Let me tell you: if I hear the words ‘evil twin’ or ‘I’m pregnant’ ever again, I might actually stab someone.”

“It could be worse, though, right?” Frank offered through his extremely manly giggles. “At least you’re not watching Dora the Explorer.”

“Dora the Explorer. . .?” Gerard scrunched up his nose as he tried to remember the name.

Something inside of Frank’s chest constricted a bit as he watched his husband attempt to recall the trivial information. It was a small, unimportant tidbit, sure, but it was still a reminder of exactly why Frank was sitting in the hospital room. “You know, that cartoon about the annoying Mexican girl and her pet monkey? ‘Swiper, no swiping?’ “

“Swiper, no swiping. . .oh! With the backpack? And singing map?” Gerard’s eyes were bright and hopeful.

“Yes! That’s it!” Frank answered immediately. “See, aren’t you glad that you don’t have to suffer through that?”

“Definitely,” agreed Gerard. “But I might actually break the TV if I see another episode of The Young and the Restless.”

Frank replied, “Understandable,” with a grin, feeling happier than he had in awhile. Gerard was almost acting like his old self again. Almost.

* * *

“Thanks so much for understanding, Jon.”

“Of course, Frank. As long as it doesn’t happen again, obviously,” Jon replied kindly.

He chuckled politely. “Obviously. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.” Frank hung up the phone, more grateful than ever for his lenient boss. He hadn’t lost his job because of his nearly three-month leave. That was a blessing; job-hunting was the last thing he needed to be added to his plate. He sank back into the couch cushions with a sigh, his small body falling automatically into the crease he was beginning to make by sleeping downstairs every night. Inevitably, he would have to return to the bedroom, but that was something he still didn’t feel like dealing with. The couch was comfortable enough.

Frank heaved a sigh when he remembered that he’d finished the last of his microwavable meals last night and therefore would have to go to the grocery store if he wanted something other than canned beans for dinner. Running an absent hand through his already messy hair, he stood up and grabbed his car keys, figuring that he’d better just get it over with.

Thankfully, the store was only a couple of streets away, and Frank pulled into the parking lot in about three minutes. The sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon, sending streaks of _pinkredgold_ through the gradually darkening sky. It was the kind of thing that would normally have Gerard whipping out his phone to take a picture so he could paint it later. But, of course, Gerard wasn’t there. So Frank tugged his phone from the narrow pocket of his skinny jeans and snapped a couple of shots for him. Maybe he could print them out for Gerard later or something.

Even after his phone was tucked away again, Frank found himself standing in the parking lot, just watching the shifting clouds above his head. It was odd, watching the sunset without Gerard’s artistic commentary on every hue. Sometimes the semi-pretentious narrative got old, but in that moment, Frank would’ve given anything to hear an analysis of the deep orange streaks painting the clouds.

Knowing he probably looked really weird, Frank shook his head a little and went into the store. He pushed his cart up and down the aisles quickly, cringing slightly at the annoying generic pop song wafting through the loudspeakers. The singer was too high-pitched and completely overpowered the surprisingly decent bass line. He resolved to make his trip short as possible and hurried to the next aisle, throwing a bag of his favorite potato chips into the cart on his way.

Finally, he was lugging two heavy plastic bags back out to his car and tossing them into the backseat. The sky had turned completely dark while he was in the store, the vivid colors surrendering to a dark blue spotted with stars. The moon was full and bright, illuminating the parking lot more than the florescent lights in every row. Frank jammed his key into the ignition and started for home, trying his best to ignore the absence of Gerard’s voice, his presence, in both the seat next to him and the vacant rooms of his house.


	10. A Good Kind of Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the long wait:( hope you enjoy anyway!

_“I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, the stronger and stranger it is.” -Vladimir Nabokov_

Three weeks later, Gerard was doing tremendously better. Frank had been visiting him almost every day when he got off of work, and their ‘new’ friendship had really blossomed. Gerard still hadn’t been able to remember anything past around his twelfth birthday, which meant no Frank memories, but progress was progress.

Technically, their six-month anniversary had been last week, but Frank hadn’t said anything. He’d also let Valentine’s Day slip by, accepting that he and Gerard were currently just friends. It still hurt to see that Gerard’s ring finger remained bare, though Frank did his best to remain optimistic.

One Friday afternoon, Frank walked into Gerard’s room exhaustedly, having had a long, busy day at work. “Rough day?” Gerard asked sympathetically.

“Yeah,” said Frank as he sat down. “But, hey, I have tomorrow off.”

“That’s good. You know, I feel pretty bad about not doing anything but sitting in this bed for months,” Gerard commented.

“Don’t feel bad. It’s not like this is your fault. And hey, Brendon says you’ll probably be able to leave soon.”

“Yeah. Speaking of. . .d’you think I could, um, stay at your house? Like, if you have a spare room or something. . .”

“Of course,” said Frank readily, trying to push down the butterflies that rose in his stomach at the thought of having Gerard home again. “I have a spare room that you could totally stay in, for however long you need.”

“Thank you so much, Frank,” Gerard replied gratefully. “Oh, um, before I forget. . .” He twisted to the side and pulled a notebook from the nightstand. “Mikey brought me an old sketchbook of mine last week, and I, uh, I drew something. For you, I mean. If you want to see it.” He had gotten much better about his anxiety around Frank, especially after Brendon had started him on a different, much less addictive medicine, but he did tend to get really sensitive about his art.

Frank smiled; he had missed seeing his husband’s little doodles all of the time. “Of course I want to see it, Gee.”

Gerard smiled back, albeit slightly nervously, and opened the book to a carefully bookmarked page before handing it to Frank. It was a picture of Frank, and it was probably the most beautiful thing Frank had ever seen (other than his husband, of course). Even though it was just done in pencil, the shading was so perfect that it almost looked like a black and white photograph. Gerard had captured the way Frank looked at him, eyes soft and mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. Gerard had drawn Frank multiple times before, but there was something different about this time. _A good kind of different,_ Frank thought.

A second later, he realized he’d just been staring at the drawing for several minutes in complete silence and realized how Gerard would take that. “Oh my God, Gerard, I. . .I can’t find the words. It’s amazing. You’re amazing. Like, it looks like a photo, it’s so realistic.”

Gerard’s pale cheeks flushed a warm, pleased pink. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Frank knew that Gerard wasn’t exactly prone to believe compliments, so he put his hand on his arm and said firmly, “Seriously, Gee, this is fucking magnificent. And I know that you don’t believe me, so don’t even try. But I mean this with every inch of my being when I say that you’re the best artist I know.”

Without realizing it, Frank had gotten really close to Gerard, their faces only a few inches apart. Frank couldn’t help the way his eyes automatically flickered down to his husband’s lips, but the second he realized what he was doing, he moved back quickly. _Just friends, Frank,_ he reminded himself sternly. _Just. Friends. He’s probably weirded out now, you idiot._ “Sorry,” Frank muttered, blushing. “But, uh, yeah. Your drawing is really good.”

Gerard looked slightly disoriented, eyes confused and almost disappointed. “Thanks. You can have it, if you want.”

Frank looked down at the picture again. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can always draw more if I want, but I drew that one specially for you. I wanted to have it done for Valentine’s Day, like, as a friendly gift, but it kept turning out wrong.” Gerard reached over and separated the page from the notebook. “There you go.”

“Thank you so much, Gee,” Frank said sincerely.

Gerard smiled. “You’re welcome, Frankie. So, anyway, if I recall, you never let me finish my explanation of Return of the Jedi’s superiority last week.”

“Well, no, not exactly. . .”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to finish now,” Gerard smirked.

Frank could barely stifle his (affectionate) groan.

* * *

“Okay, okay! I surrender! Just no more in-depth character analyses!” Frank mock-pleaded, throwing his hands in the air.

Gerard grinned, small teeth glinting in the flourescent lights of the hospital room. “Say it. . .”

“Fine. Return of the Jedi is the best Star Wars movie,” Frank grumbled. “Even though it’s missing some of the best scenes in the entire franchise.”

“Whatever,” Gerard snorted triumphantly. “You still admitted it.”

“I had no choice,” protested Frank, shaking his head good-naturedly. “I’ll always be an Empire man at heart.”

“Trash,” Gerard said, pretending to disguise his words with a cough.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Anyway, as fun as this has been, I should probably get going before I get kicked out.”

“Probably,” Gerard agreed. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Definitely. No later than noon, probably.”

“Cool beans,” Gerard said, adding finger guns for emphasis. “Now _that’s_ something I remember from my teen years.”

“ _Ten year olds_ say cool beans, Gee. You’re such a dork,” Frank laughed as he stood up and walked to the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” replied Gerard. A few moments later, though, he called, “Frank?”

Frank immediately turned around from where he had made it a couple of steps down the hallway and poked his head back through Gerard’s cracked door. “Yeah?”

\“Will you c’mere for a sec?” Gerard asked, inexplicably blushing.

“Sure,” Frank answered, slightly confused, and stepped back over to Gerard’s bedside.

“Closer,” said Gerard impatiently.

Frank leaned down, still puzzled. “Okay. . .?”

And then Gerard leaned in and _kissed him_. Frank was surprised as hell at first, but then he was pressing back, chaste but firm, and God, it was everything he’d been missing for the past months: warm and soft and _Gerard._ Of course, it was slightly different, as Gerard was trying to relearn Frank, but that didn’t matter.

When they broke apart, Frank was grinning and Gerard was smiling shyly. “I hope that was okay,” he said softly.

“Gee, that was so much more than okay,” Frank assured him, pecking his cheek lightly. He wanted to kiss Gerard until he melted into him, wanted to remind him of his love until it was all he could hear, but he knew that he couldn’t. So Frank just settled for kissing Gerard again, and yeah, it was different, But it was a good kind of different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a hecka rad day/night:)


	11. Coming Home

_“Falling in love is easy. Falling in love with the same person repeatedly is extraordinary. ” -Crystal Woods_

“Hey,” said Frank brightly as he walked into the room. He didn’t have to work, thankfully, because it was Saturday, his day off.

Gerard was sitting cross-legged on top of the covers, sketching. He looked up and smiled, nodding towards the wall clock. “Right on time, I see.”

“Well, of course. I love visiting you.” Frank was careful to add the word ‘visiting’ to his second statement.

“Never would’ve guessed that one,” said Gerard sarcastically. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t taken him very long to recover his sassiness. “So, while we’re kind of on the subject of you liking my company. . .Brendon says I could be released today.”

“That’s awesome! Would you still want to, um, to stay with me?” True, the previous night’s events seemed to have answered that, but Frank still wanted to confirm.

“Definitely. If you’ll still let me.”

“Of course I will,” said Frank, sitting down in the chair and pulling it closer to Gerard’s bed for what would hopefully be the last time. “So, how exactly does the getting you out of here process work?”

Gerard shrugged as he placed his sketchbook on the bed next to him. “I have no idea. Brendon or someone will probably come by whenever so we can figure all of that crap out.”

“Cool beans,” Frank replied, in a clear imitation of Gerard.

“Hey,” Gerard complained, swatting his arm lightly. “What am I supposed to say with something’s cool?”

Frank thought for a moment before reluctantly admitting, “I don’t actually know.”'

“Then I’m just going to keep saying cool beans.”

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Frank said, “Fine. Be the lamest guy in town.”

“I’m fine with that title, actually. “

“Sure, bud. Keep telling yourself that.”

Whatever sarcastic comeback Gerard was about to retort with was cut off by the entrance of a short, brown-haired nurse. He looked like he’d just been caught making out in a janitor’s closet, hair messy and lips bright red and swollen. Frank smirked. “Making out with the doctor again, Ryan?”

Nurse Ross’ cheeks flushed to match his lips. “No, why would you even think that? I’m straight. Anyway. That’s beside the point. We’re supposed to be releasing Gerard from the hospital, not discussing my _lack_ of an affair with Brendon.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Frank snorted. “But we probably should discuss getting Gerard out of here. “

* * *

It was naive, Frank knew, but as he led Gerard back into their house, he couldn’t help but pray that something about the wooden floorboards or warm lights would trigger some sort of memory. They didn’t. “So. . .this is your house?” Gerard asked, looking around. “It’s nice.”

_Well, of course you think it’s nice. You insisted that it had to be this one, after all,_ Frank thought. “Thanks,” he replied out loud. “So, um, the guest room is right up this way.” He led Gerard up the stairs, making sure that the other man was following as he turned the corner of the long hallway. “I went ahead and put some clothes for you in the cabinet, so feel free to wear whatever. Actually, just feel free to do whatever, honestly. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you so much for everything, Frank,” said Gerard as he looked around the small space. “Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to,” Frank assured him. “You’re easily my best friend, Gee.” _And maybe even more._

Gerard smirked slightly. “Well, I don’t know about that. After all. . .” He stepped closer to Frank and leaned in, breath hot on Frank’s cheek. “Would best friends do this?” Gerard shifted just enough to press his lips to Frank’s, with only a little more intensity than could safely be called chaste.

Frank reciprocated the action immediately, relearning the details of Gerard’s lips (though he really hadn’t forgotten them) and savoring every point of contact. Before he was too tempted to take it any farther, though, he pulled back but didn’t remove his arms from where they had migrated to around Gerard’s waist. “I guess not,” he answered once he could breathe again.

Letting out a breathy laugh, Gerard let himself lean into Frank a little more and kissed his cheek gently. “So, ‘best friend,’ what’s for dinner?”

* * *

That night, Frank had trouble sleeping. It was everything to know that Gerard was home, that he was safe and sound and recovered in every aspect but his memory, but the bed was still too big and the sheets were still too cold. He tossed and turned, trying in vain to distract his mind from the man that was down the hall instead of in his bed. True, Frank had slept in their bed alone before, of course, but it was an entirely different feeling to know that Gerard was so close. _So close, yet so far, right?_ the snarky part of his brain commented. “Shut up,” Frank told it. “Let me sleep.” He turned over onto his other side, hoping that he would finally be able to drift off. No such luck.

Finally, at around two am, after he’d gotten out of bed on a thirty-minute hunt for his earbuds, Frank’s eyes slipped shut and he fell into an unfulfilling slumber. He was woken up way too early the next morning by his alarm, the mechanical beeping reminding him that he had work today. Running a hand through his messy hair, Frank stumbled out of bed and into the shower, the cool water not really helping him feel more alert. After he was dressed, he made his way downstairs and instantly started the coffee machine. Gerard was still upstairs, most likely sleeping, when Frank left, so he scribbled a note and left it on the kitchen counter.

Frank was pretty distracted at work all day, mind constantly returning to Gerard and whether or not he was able to find food alright, if something around their house had somehow brought a memory back. It seemed like centuries before he was finally clocking out and driving home. When he stepped through the front door, Frank was surprised to smell the cozy aroma of cooking food coming from the kitchen. He walked further into the house and realized that Gerard had made grilled ham and cheese sandwiches for the both of them. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Gerard looked up from his sandwich and smiled. “Hey. It’s good. I made you a sandwich,” he replied, nodding towards the counter.

“Sorry if it’s bad. I’m not much of a cook.” Frank waved his concerns off airily. “Nah, I’m sure it’s great.” He crossed the kitchen and kissed Gerard’s cheek, causing the other man to blush. Things almost felt like they were back to normal, if you know, you ignored the fact that Gerard still had none of his old memories of Frank.


	12. End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last (way overdue) chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i even say how sorry i am about the wait???? life hit me like a ton of bricks and just.. ..p kgpdjgsoghogho. the last chapter is finally here, and I can sleep at night and not stay up until two am feeling guilty XD   
> thank you so so so so so so so so so much for reading this, especially if you dealt with my terrible updating habits. oh my god, I just couldn't live with myself knowing that this might become one of those "last updated: 2007" fics oh god can you imagine  
> anyway. sorry about this mess of a note. thank you for reading, thank you for waiting, and i really hope you enjoy!!!!

_“I have a lot of great memories, but I can’t imagine anything more exciting than the life I have now.” -Rob Low_

_TWO YEARS LATER_

“And then Mikey set the _newspaper_ on fire, and I still didn’t notice because I was _still_ trying to beat the boss in my game! He came running into the living room screaming, and then he called 911 even though I’d already gotten most of the flames out!”

Frank laughed. “That sounds just like you and Mikey, honestly.” He loved hearing about Gerard’s childhood, especially because each random story was a memory returning. He still had no recollection whatsoever of Frank, though.

Gerard smiled back at Frank from across the table. The couple was back at Ivre L’Amour to celebrate two years of dating. Things had gotten a lot better in the past yearsGerard had adjusted to his new anxiety meds, and he always made sure to take no more than he was supposed to. They’d never really put an official label on their relationship, but the kisses and the way Gerard’s clothes made their way into Frank’s closet again said enough. Neither spoke about the silver ring that Frank still wore or Gerard’s amnesia. It wasn’t always easy, but they worked through it.

And then, one night several weeks ago, Frank had decided to reserve a table at Ivre L’Amour and visit the jewelry store. Searching through the glittering rings had been an experience he’d never expected to repeat, but the feelings of excitement and nerves were exactly the same. He hadn’t been sure whether to pick something similar to the one that Gerard simply kept in the back of his nightstand now or something completely different and had eventually chosen the latter. It was a new start, for better or for worse, right?

So far, Frank had spent most of the evening overcome with deja vu, especially as his fingers brushed the surface of the small box in his pocket. “I love you, Gerard,” Frank said, taking the other man’s hand in his own. “I love you so much.”

Gerard interlocked his fingers with Frank’s and replied, “I love you too.” He’d said it to Frank many times, both before and now after the incident, but the three words still meant so much to Frank.

Even though they were in public, Frank had to lean in and kiss Gerard chastely. “If you’re done eating,” he said, butterflies beginning to flutter in his stomach. “I was thinking we could take a walk in that park a few streets over? If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love to,” Gerard answered, giving Frank’s hand a gentle squeeze. As Frank squeezed back, the butterflies started soaring.

* * *

Frank was practically trembling by the time he and Gerard reached the bench where he’d originally proposed. “Hey, uh, d’you want to sit for a minute?” he asked.

Gerard nodded and sat down.“Sure. Hey, Frank, you alright?”

Frank jerked his gaze away from the box now clenched tightly in his hand. “Uh, yeah. I just -” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this,” he muttered to himself before turning back to Gerard. “Gee, I love you. I always have and I always will. You’re the sunlight in my darkest hours, you’re the air when I’m drowning. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that you were special. And throughout these past four years, that fact has only been proven to me time and time again. There’s no one quite like you, Gerard, and I’m infinitely grateful that I’m the one person, out of the billions here on this earth, who gets to call you mine. “I never want to let you go or see you with anyone else. I want to grow old with you and spent my elderly days next to you in a rocking chair. There’s not a moment of the rest of my life that I don’t want to spend by your side. So,” Frank continued, as he slipped off of the bench and onto one knee, still shaking. “Gerard Way, will you marry me?”

Now, Frank had been so concentrated on not stuttering or otherwise messing up his speech that he hadn’t noticed the way Gerard’s eyes had begun to widen around the second sentence, but as he finally worked up the courage to really look at the other man, he saw Gerard’s amazed face. “Frank?” Gerard stammered, eyes the size of the moon (or baby worlds.)

Frank’s heart was pounding so rapidly, he wouldn’t have been that surprised if it leapt out of his chest. Was Gerard turning him down? Had he asked too soon?

“ _Frank_?” Gerard said again, though this time he sounded far more emotional than confused. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Frank, I-”

“You what?” Frank asked, utterly bemused. He carefully stood up and placed a calming hand on Gerard’s shoulder. “What is it, baby?” God, he prayed Gerard wasn’t turning him down; he’d actually die if that happened.

“Frank, I- I _remember_.”

The words Frank had given up hope of hearing hit him like a truck in the best possible way. “Y-you what?” he whispered, hardly daring to believe it.

“I remember, Frank, all of it. The party where we met, dating you, the wedding - all of it. Oh my God, Frank, I love you so fucking much.”

“Gerard, I-” Frank gave up on words and just kissed him instead, unable to stop himself from tearing up. When they finally broke apart, both Frank and Gerard had wet cheeks.

Gerard swiped at his eyes uselessly. “God, I just. . .”

“I get it,” Frank assured, trying to dry his eyes as well. “I get it. Fuck, I love you so much.”

They kissed again before Gerard pulled away. “Oh, by the way, Frank: the answer’s yes. Again.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much for reading! let me know what you thought with a comment/kudos. (if you just want to comment to yell at me about my procrastination, you can do that too. i understand.)  
> have the best possible day:)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you're enjoying the story! any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. have an awesome day:)


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